


The Long Dark

by nchi_wana



Category: Et Cetera (Manga)
Genre: Age Difference, Bandits & Outlaws, Bounty Hunters, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Love Triangles, One-Sided Attraction, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Racism, Romance, Romantic Angst, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 169,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1437256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nchi_wana/pseuds/nchi_wana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A failed ambush against Blush creates a rift between Alternate and Fino. They go their separate ways, but when Fino discovers Alternate is involved with a gang of outlaws intent on robbing a bank, she sets out to investigate and bring her friend home again. She makes a deal with a bounty hunter to help her find Alternate and stop the gang’s plans, but there’s more to the story than she thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimers:** _Et Cetera_ is a manga series that belongs to Tow Nakazaki. I own nothing. I am simply a fan and I like to write fanfiction sometimes, and I don’t profit from any of this.
> 
>  _Et Cetera_ is also a story that doesn’t concern itself too much with historical accuracy, but some research has been done to stay within reason. Sometimes I had to make stuff up. The main thing I concern myself with is canon and characterization.
> 
> Please leave a comment with any critique or thoughts you might have to offer, so I can improve and be encouraged to keep writing. :) Or you can leave kudos.

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* * *

 

 

Fino brought the Zodiac Gun close to her chest before peering around the corner. She wasn't taking any chances. If he was there, and she wasn't ready, he'd shoot first. It'd be the end of her.

Hidden in the alley next to the brothel, she waited, daring to allow one eye to leave the safety of the corner. Men came and went from the building where merry piano music tumbled out whenever the door swung open. Laughter could be heard where Fino was stationed, its muffled jauntiness reverberating through the wood next to her head. As the sun began to set in the west, the traffic of men increased. The revelry within intensified.

_He should be coming out soon_ , she thought. She was able to take her attention away from the door and glance across the street. A wagon trundled by, sending up a cloud of dust, but she was able to spy his dark form through the haze. Alternate passed the time near the post office, leaning against the wall with his hat lowered over his eyes. His arms were crossed, one hand cupped under an elbow, the fingers twisting the short leather fringes hanging from his shirt sleeve.

Even with his face concealed, Fino knew her friend was watching the brothel closely. A brief thought flitted through her mind, that Alternate might also wish to go inside and join the party, but she shook the idea away. He wasn't that kind of a person. He wasn't anything like Blush.

The daylight was waning, yet Fino remained. A lifetime of walking, riding, setting up tipis, and foraging for food had conditioned her physique. She was capable of waiting hours upon hours. The hands hidden in her riding gauntlets had known years of sewing, tanning, beading, and the string of the bow. She could keep her fingers on the trigger of her gun for as long as it took.

Alternate had shifted his position. A hand went up and touched the brim of his hat. It was the signal.

Fino's sights snapped on the figure emerging from the brothel. Tall and broad-shouldered, Blush sauntered off the boardwalk and onto the street. He staggered somewhat, and clear indication that he'd been drinking. She almost scoffed aloud. He'd let his guard down like that?

The urge to attack washed over her, but Fino kept looking at Alternate. He continued to stand idly against the wall, his hat still low. He had yet to give her the second signal.

They couldn't afford to miss this chance. It'd taken them weeks to find him again.

Fino's heart hammered against her ribs, and a rush of adrenaline surged through her head. Her trigger finger trembled. _Give the signal, Alternate!_

But he didn't. He returned to his previous stance of leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. It didn't appear he'd be moving again.

Fino tore her eyes away from him to the man in the street. Blush replaced his hat and sunglasses, even though the sun was beginning to set and the sky was darkening. His back was to her, and she couldn't read his face. Did Alternate detect something? Was the former Syndicate killer aware of their presence?

Blush lingered for a while longer, standing still like a wolf sniffing the air, and then began strolling way. He may have been heading for a hotel, or maybe another saloon. Fino guessed the former. But if he managed to get into a hotel, they'll end up throwing away an opportunity. She wasn't of the mind to go barging into hotels with a gun. Innocent people would get in the way.

Alternate still hadn't given the signal. What was wrong with him? Didn't he understand that if they just let their enemy walk away, it could cost them several more weeks of searching?

Blush was disappearing into the twilight, and soon he'd be gone. Fino's hands shook around her gun, her teeth grinding in agonizing anticipating. _Now, Alternate! Give me the signal NOW!_

To her horror, Alternate shoved away from the wall of the post office and began making his way toward her. Was he insane?!

Fino wanted to shout at him, but she looked to Blush. He'd stopped in the middle of the road, his head turned toward a building to his right. She could clearly see his profile, but what was he looking at?

She couldn't wait any longer. To her, losing this chance was akin to outright failure. It was now or never.

She jumped out from her refuge and into the road. "Blush!"

Several people in the street stopped as the echo of her call throbbed over the buildings. Blush moved to face her, giving her a level stare. A faint smirk was etched over his features. It was then that Fino realized what had been going on. He knew. He knew all along they'd been waiting for him.

She moved to swing up the Zodiac Gun, and people scattered. There were shouts of "gunfight" as residents dove for cover.

Fino had forgotten that she was ridiculously slow with a gun compared to Blush. As soon as she'd brought it up, Blush's fingers were already pressing on the triggers of his own. The thunderous resound of his pistols were more like that of rifles. It was a single shot, or so it seemed, but the numerous bullets that spat at the ground near her feet told the real story.

She didn't have a chance to fire the Zodiac. The shock of the blasts had paralyzed her thoughts. Before she understood what was happening she was on the ground, facing the grit of the road. Alternate was on top of her, covering her. Fino heard him hiss through his teeth and tense up. Another blast sounded above her. Alternate had taken a quick shot at Blush, and then promptly pulled her up off the ground.

"He's on the run!" he told her as he rushed off down the street.

Fino followed him, but she couldn't see Blush anywhere ahead of them. "Which way did he go?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Alternate replied irritably. "And I didn't give you the signal to shoot!"

"You were going to let him walk away!"

"He knew something was wrong!"

Fino bit back her response and instead focused on keeping up with her friend. They could argue later.

They turned down another street, following the path they believed Blush had taken. Alternate pointed toward a church. One of the double doors at the entrance was swinging shut, and the rest of the street was deserted. The inside of the building was dark through the windows, and with the deepening of nightfall it wouldn't be long before they'd have a hard time seeing without a lantern.

The two friends ran straight for the church. The smooth glass of the windows gleamed with reflections of the neighboring buildings. They seemed strange considering their place between the rough planks of wood that made up the structure, the paint long since peeled away to flakes from exposure to the dry sun.

Before she could go pounding up the stairs to the door, Alternate grabbed Fino's arm to stop her. He kept his voice low. "He's trapped in there."

"Precisely the reason why we should go in!" Fino said in a harsh whisper. "We've got him!"

"More like he has _us_. As soon as we open that door, he'll fire. I say we find another way in."

If there was another way in, it was very possible Blush had found it already and escaped. Fino didn't want to wait. "My gun's faster than his. This time I'll be ready."

Alternate looked her over and paused. Then he nodded. "Fine."

Fino crept up the stairs, cringing as one of the warped boards moaned under her foot. When she went to open the door, she noticed Alternate had remained behind her a few steps. He was going to let her do this by herself? Could she ever trust a man to do anything?

As if sensing her thoughts, her friend was beside her and reaching for the knob. Fino stepped aside, ready to jump into the entryway as soon as her partner jerked the door open.

They moved in unison, Alternate pulling the door and Fino springing to the front. At first she didn't see anything. The sanctuary was almost completely dark. She could determine the faint outlines of the pulpit at the front, and the rows of pews leading to it, but everything else was beginning to meld into shapeless masses. It was silent.

"Come out, Blush!" Fino demanded into the empty space. Not that she expected him to reply, but she heard Alternate exhale. Was he still annoyed with her? "Fine, then," she said. "If you won't show yourself, then I'll make you."

The trigger clicked under her finger. Alternate's cry of protest was drowned out by the explosion that burst from the Zodiac Gun's barrel. A brilliant light flashed, and the church lit up.

There! Blush scrambled away from the pulpit, but not before catching part of his foot in the Taurus bullet's path. The podium and the floor around it erupted into flying chunks of wood, creating lethal projectiles. The man was flung away toward the back wall where he quickly recovered and drew his guns.

Fino and Alternate were already in the church by that time, but as soon as they saw his pistols, they plunged down behind the pews. Blush wasted no time putting bullets in the seating.

The two friends huddled on the floor, separated by a row of pews, listening and feeling as the bullets slammed into the wood around them. As soon as Blush finished firing, Fino, being ahead of Alternate, took the opportunity to fire the Zodiac once more. She took a blind aim under the pew that covered her, hoping the explosion would catch their enemy again.

When the light faded, a debris cloud rolled over them. The sounds of wood plunking to the floor and dirt pattering on the seats came to their ears, but there was no sound of a man crying out in pain. Fino waited again for Blush to fire, but he didn't. Behind her, Alternate was muttering something.

Feeling somewhat disoriented, Fino took a risk and came out from under the pew. She hoped to see Blush's prone form on the floor, but when she searched closer through the dust, he wasn't anywhere to be found. How could he escape? Didn't the first bullet hit his foot?

What she did find was a gaping hole that used to be the back of the church. At least half the building was missing, its guts strewn out on the street behind it. People were beginning to run to the scene.

"Fino!" Alternate said as he stumbled toward her. He coughed and placed a hand over his nose and mouth. "What is the _matter_ with you?!"

She turned to face him. "He escaped! We'd better go—"

"No!"

His reply startled her. She threw him an incredulous glare. "What do you mean, 'no'? He can't be far. We still have time!"

"We blew it, Fino! He'll be out of this town on a fast horse before we can find him. And now we've attracted everyone's attention. The sheriff will be here. We've got to go!"

They went for the front exit, and as Alternate slammed the door behind him there was a mournful groan from the church. The two of them hastened away from the building just as it collapsed into pieces. The steeple buckled with it, and the bell came crashing down with a tremendous gong.

* * *

 

"I can't believe you," Fino said as she rode alongside Alternate. They fled the town at a fast clip on their horses, leaving the glowing lights of civilization in favor of the dark wilderness. "You would just—You would rather we give up?!"

"We're not giving up," Alternate corrected, "but we can't stay back there. We just destroyed their church."

Fino stared down at the bouncing head of her horse. She didn't care for the white man's religion, but she never intended any offense. "But we had him," she said. "We were so close."

Alternate pulled on the reins to slow his steed. "You call that close? I call it a disaster."

Fino slowed her horse as well. "What's that supposed to mean? It went just fine—except we lost him…"

"We had a plan, Fino. I told you to wait for my signal, and you didn't. We're supposed to be a team."

"We are!"

Alternate's words bit her like a rattlesnake. About three months prior, the two of them left Mingchao, Baskerville, and Benkate after they finished off the Syndicate. Getting to know each other had been awkward at first, but they soon fell into a rhythm of teamwork as they searched for Blush. Their enemy had been unbelievably difficult to track down. Fino hadn't been certain at first that he was even still alive, as they hadn't seen him since the incident on the ship with Cavanaugh and the Syndicate magician Futura. But rumors drifted of a blond man with an enormous ego traveling the vicinity, working as a mercenary and frequently killing Indians to earn his pay. The stories made her blood boil. They traced his whereabouts to the town, and more specifically to a brothel.

Even with three months behind them, Fino found she was quite different from Alternate in a lot of ways, which sometimes put them at odds. He was calculating and preferred to work according to a careful scheme. A kink in his plan could be readily corrected, although Plan B and Plan C were usually mapped out ahead of time. That wasn't to stay he couldn't be impulsive, but he tended to hold back better than she did. His ability to plot the movements of his enemies in advance impressed her beyond words.

She could also plan ahead, but she rarely cared if things didn't work out. If an opportunity arose, she would abandon the strategy. Actually, Fino felt she was pretty good at being impulsive. It came with being a warrior, where split-second decisions could save her life. She rather thought of herself as instinctual rather than impulsive. But she could also read people and weigh their honesty before determining if they were friend or foe, something Alternate, despite his scheming nature, had a tendency to lack. His brief collaboration with Blush to steal the Eto Gun had been evidence of this. He'd fallen for the man's act, one Fino would've thought was too obvious to believe. But then again, he'd also deceived her once, long ago, yet she'd been a child then.

"If we're a team, then I'd like for you listen to me," Alternate said. "You could've been killed back there. He knew something was up. That's why I didn't give you the second signal."

"But if we hadn't acted, he would've gotten away—"

"And he did anyway. I believe that had we waited, we could've followed him and found out where he was staying. I don't know about you, but I would've waited outside until the sun came up if that's what we had to do."

Fino's pride was burned, but she knew he was right. Even so, she said, "If you hadn't knocked me down to the ground, I could've shot him. We could've had our revenge tonight."

Alternate tugged his horse's reins to stop it. "So now you're blaming me for this?"

"But you've been blaming me this whole time!"

"Because it _is_ your fault!"

"Maybe you need to come up with a better plan next time, since you're so set on being the leader here!"

Alternate abruptly goaded his horse forward, leaving her behind.

"Hey!" Fino called. Her heart dropped. "Where are you going now?"

"Home," Alternate replied tersely. He guided his steed to the left and away from her.

He had been staying in her village since they returned from New York. Yaghi was there waiting for them. But when she observed the direction her friend was heading, she became confused. "But, Alternate, home is that way," she said, motioning ahead of her.

"I'm not going back there," he said, his voice growing distant. He tone was flat. "That's not my home. I'm staying someplace else."

The rattlesnake bit again, and Fino's heart dropped further. If he wasn't going to return with her to the village, then where was this "home" he spoke of? She didn't know of any neighboring towns in the area. Was he going to camp out?

She wanted to say she was sorry, but her wounded pride was still smarting. As she watched his form disappear into the blackness, she was left with the stillness of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Fino made a hard run for her village that night, and in the morning she awoke in the comfort of her sleeping hides. She stretched out and pushed aside the heavy buffalo robe, rubbing her eyes. She made a quick inspection of the large space to find she was the only one inside. Her brother, Yaghi, had apparently arisen before her along with her other relatives who slept in the tipi with them. She really had been exhausted when she'd arrived home.

Then her memories returned to the previous evening. Her gaze drifted to the exit flap of the conical structure, which remained shut. Alternate had been staying with some men in another tipi while he lived in the village, as some people thought it was inappropriate that he, a white man, should live in the same tent as her, an unmarried young woman. He stuck with her most of the time, and when she wasn't available he would hang around Yaghi. The men he stayed with weren't fond of him yet, even though people were usually tolerant of whites and traded with them regularly. But no white man had ever lived in the village, especially after the incident with Blush. That convinced the villagers that a visit from any non-Indian foreigner in their camp would have to be brief. This rule had been broken twice; once with Mingchao and her friends, and a second time with Alternate. It was only because the chief had approved. Anyone unknown would've been turned away.

Fino crawled out of the tipi and into the late morning sunlight. People were going about their daily duties, which made her feel guilty for sleeping in. Her relatives already scolded her for being too consumed in her quest for revenge, and suggested she stay at home and leave the white man who killed her parents to the spirits to deal with. But Fino didn't trust the spirits to do the job for her. Blush was still alive. Wasn't that proof enough that the spirits weren't doing anything?

She wandered around the camp looking for her brother, and crested a small ridge at the edge of the village that sloped down toward a river. A line of six horses being guided by some young men were at the water's edge, drinking. Three boys were playing upstream, laughing and grabbing up clots of mud to throw at each other. She saw Yaghi among them and called to him.

When the boy came to her, he smiled sheepishly. "We're done with our chores," he said.

"That's okay," Fino said, glancing beyond him, searching. "Is Alternate here?"

Yaghi shook his head. "No. He didn't come back with you?"

Fino bit her lip as she looked around again. "He didn't. I'm worried he camped out alone last night."

"Did you guys get in a fight again?"

She gave a start. Sometimes she forgot how conscious Yaghi could be of the relationship between her and Alternate. He liked to act clueless and innocent, but he was clever and observant. He was always watching them and the way they interacted. She knew because he'd ask her questions later about why she said this or that to Alternate, or why she sometimes stared at the young man for unusually long periods of time. Even Fino didn't know the answer to that one.

She went on to explain to him what had happened with their encounter with Blush, and the fallout afterwards. Yaghi listened patiently and without judgment. This wasn't the first time Fino and Alternate had had a disagreement. She was more of a go-getter and he was a thinker. As soon as she found a clue to Blush's whereabouts, she wanted to charge into town with her gun drawn, but Alternate wanted to investigate further and lay low until the information was confirmed. For her, it was too slow. More than once she'd dragged him from one place to another, trying to find their nemesis, but he'd resisted and always attempted to calm her down, which sometimes backfired. When it came to Blush, Fino was a powder keg of rage.

"Do you think he'll come back?" Yaghi asked with some hope. "He wouldn't just leave us, would he?"

"I hope not," she replied. "I just wish I knew where he went."

Her brother's face lit up. "Oh! I know where he might've gone. I bet he went to Gordy's place!"

Fino frowned in doubt. "He hasn't been back there since… Probably not since Gordy died." Then it struck her like an arrow through the heart. When Alternate said he was going "home," he meant he was returning to his father's house, near the mine where the big man used to work. Fino hadn't seen the place since the last fight against Gordy. It was probably falling into disrepair at this point, if not completely looted of all its belongings by traveling bandits.

"Are you going to go look?" Yaghi said, bringing her out of her thoughts. A sparkle had entered his eyes. She knew the desire for adventure when she saw it.

"I am," she told him with a nod. "And let me guess, you want to come, too?"

The boy nodded eagerly.

They both headed back to camp and loaded up on a horse. They hit the trail in hopes of reaching Gordy's old house before noon, since the mine wasn't far from the village. Yaghi knew the path by heart, although the memories of the beatings he received from that evil man were still fresh. Fino felt him shiver in front of her. She couldn't quite decide if she was satisfied that Gordy was dead, especially since he was Alternate's father, another one of Blush's victims. The miner had selfishly hoarded what her people considered a sacred site, and she would've killed him had Mingchao not stopped her. But if she had killed Gordy, Alternate would not be her friend today.

Fino had been so engrossed in her own thoughts she was surprised to find they'd already arrived. They'd made good time. Steering their horse up the wide trail leading to the mine, she kept her eyes open for any sign of her friend.

When the siblings reached the top, they saw a horse tied to the bare branch of a desiccated old tree that stood some ten feet high near the front door. The two-story building was beginning to experience some natural overgrowth, but Fino knew in previous years it had been well-maintained by its owner. It was an unusual house for the surroundings, too. It wasn't fancy, but when most miners would construct a good-enough cabin, Gordy had chosen a more upscale design featuring a covered porch and a second level balcony. Alternate had told Fino of an addition to the home for equipment that would process the gold and make it into whatever Gordy pleased.

The mine was located in the side of a cliff fairly close to the front of the home. The entrance was clogged with boulders. Fino recalled the collapse and wondered if the entire enterprise was a loss. It was no matter to her. If it couldn't be reopened, then it meant no more white men.

They dismounted and were surprised to find the door ajar. Fino drew forth the tomahawk she carried in her sash and warily approached. "Alternate?" she called into the entryway. No answer. The two stepped over the threshold and waited, listening for sounds. They heard a faint clunking noise from somewhere under their feet.

"Someone's down there," Yaghi whispered. Fino nodded.

They couldn't figure out how one might gain access to the basement, since Fino had no idea there'd been a lower level. Maybe Gordy kept a stash of gold down there.

She and Yaghi carefully walked across the floor. The house's construction had been so meticulous that even after all this time, not a single board creaked. But Fino was amazed that everything had remained untouched since Gordy's death.

The miner didn't have much taste in furniture. Most of the pieces were modest, indicating an emphasis on function rather than aesthetics. Spaces were open and filled with light pouring in from several windows that faced looking out into the desert wilderness.

There wasn't much to the interior in general. Fino guessed Gordy kept it that way in case of a break-in. Thieves would be disappointed to find almost nothing except basic necessities, yet being so close to a mine would've been a clue something had to be hidden away somewhere. Apparently somebody knew that already.

"Alternate?" Fino called again. They'd taken a turn into another room that was empty. It was a curiously small space without a window and a clean floor. A door on the other side led elsewhere.

The noises under their feet stopped. There was a pause, and then the sound of approaching footsteps. Fino drew back her tomahawk when she noticed a crack in the floor open up, and then a square in the planks pushed up and back. Yaghi scrambled to hide behind her.

"Fino?" Alternate said, his head rising from the darkness below. The glow from a lantern was seen in his other hand.

"Alternate, what are you doing down there?" Fino asked, lowering her weapon. Yaghi went forward to peer into the hole.

"Wow!" the boy exclaimed. "What is that, Alternate?"

"I'd like to know what _you're_ doing here," he returned, directing his comment at Fino. She could sense the minor irritation in his tone. Was she trespassing?

"We were worried," she explained. "This was the only place we could think of to look for you." She craned her neck to see the hole better. "What's down there?"

"Nothing," Alternate replied quickly. He lifted out his lantern to set it aside, and then reached back down to pull out a sack. With some difficulty he set the bag next to the light. It was apparently heavy.

When he pulled himself out of the trapdoor, Fino noticed he still clutched something in one of his hands. He let the door fall shut, dusted off his trousers, and blew out the lantern. He didn't look at Fino when he spoke. "I'm just cleaning out some old junk."

"Did you spend the night here?"

"Yeah."

"Um…" Fino struggled for the words. Should she apologize to him now? When she opened her mouth to do so, he spoke first.

"Fino, I think there's something we should talk about," he said.

Her heart leapt. It was a warning. "What about?"

"I don't know if we can work as a team anymore."

Her heart jumped again and started to race. "W-what do you mean? Alternate, I'm really sorry about yesterday. I'm willing to—"

Alternate shook his head. "No, I think it might be best if we worked alone."

"Why are you saying this now?"

He finally met her gaze. "Fino, I've never belonged anywhere. I don't belong in your village. I can tell the people there don't like me much, and they don't trust me. I just think it might be better if I went someplace else."

Fino blinked. "That's not true! You have friends. You have me and Yaghi, and Mingchao and the others, too!"

"But they're not here anymore."

The way he made the statement troubled her, as if he had some sort of unresolved bitterness. She recalled him mentioning how in his past he'd never had any friends. He used people and stole from them, having no sympathy even if it meant killing them. He was no homicidal maniac, she knew that, but there were times when the possibility of killing someone didn't seem to faze him. Of course he'd be friendless.

"But _I_ didn't," she said, and gestured to Yaghi. "Neither did he."

Alternate sighed and picked up his sack. It was heavy enough that it strained the thick canvas. "I'm not saying I don't have any friends. I'm talking about a true home." He glanced about the room. "Since my Papa died, I can't even call this place a home."

Fino hadn't been aware Alternate lived here at one time. "Did you grow up here?"

At first he seemed reluctant to respond, but then he said, "Not quite. My dad built this place and started the mine when I was still small. I was born somewhere else. I don't even remember my mom."

That would explain why he never said anything about her, Fino realized.

"Dad was never really clear about what happened to her," Alternate continued, his voice growing hushed. "You know, he never used to be so violent. His obsession with gold got worse as I got older. I never knew why, but I just sort of rolled with it, and even I started getting a bit of gold fever." He lowered the bag to the floor like it'd been too heavy to keep holding. "I'd help him in the mine until one day he told me to stop being such a leech and go out and make something of myself."

Fino remained quiet. _This is good_ , she thought. _Maybe he just needs to talk. If he just needs to vent, then maybe he'll change his mind about leaving._

Much to her disappointment, Alternate picked up the sack again. He pushed past her and Yaghi into the next room. "So I can't stay here. I want to do what my dad wanted me to do and get out of here."

Fino's mind whirled in bewilderment. There were so many unanswered questions, so many gaps in the story, and she began to panic a little when she couldn't find a prompt reply.

Her first instinct was to reach out and grab his free arm. "But where will you—"

Alternate jerked around at her touch and dropped whatever he'd been clutching in his hand. It clattered to the floor. The sunlight coming from the window struck a delicately wrought piece of gold that Fino recognized as a hair comb. The main body was made from gold, and the prongs appeared to be made of something silvery. Pearls were faceted across the ridge of the body.

Yaghi was quick to swipe it up. "What's this, Alternate? It looks like a girl's."

His face flushed as he nervously adjusted his monocle. "I-it's just something I found in the basement with some other stuff. Just junk I'm going to sell, maybe."

Fino eyed him. What had Gordy been doing with a hair comb like that? She had to agree with her brother's assessment that the comb was a woman's, but as far as she knew, Gordy never lived with any women.

Yaghi handed the comb back, and Alternate opened his sack to drop it in without another word about it. There was a clink when it fell in. Now Fino understood. Alternate had no money. He was looting his father's own hidden hoard of gold to build up a savings. She was sure he had enough to live on for a while, if she knew anything about how white men used gold to obtain what they called money.

"Are you going away forever?" Yaghi asked sadly. His eyes glistened with tears. "You don't like us anymore?"

Alternate smiled, one that Fino could tell was forced. She'd spent enough time observing him over the last few months to know. "It's not that, Yaghi. I'm just going to go _live_ somewhere else. I'll be back to visit, I promise." He looked to Fino as if expecting a response, but she kept her mouth shut.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ouch!"

Her hand recoiled from the work on the boot, and a droplet of blood began to form on the tip of her finger. It stung.

Fino sucked on the wound and looked down at where the needle poked through the leather on the boot she was decorating with beads. That's what she got for being so careless in her daydreaming. This was the second time today she'd pricked herself.

She sighed and brought up her handiwork. The design she was forming was that of a yellow and orange sunburst on the top of where the foot would be. Great care had to be taken not the drop the tiny glass beads that had been purchased from white traders, but Fino had already lost several in her clumsy handling of the needle.

Light fell over her as the door of the tipi was turned aside and a woman peered in. When Fino recognized her aunt, she set aside the boot to greet her. The woman smiled at her kindly and stepped inside.

"You've been in here for quite a while," her aunt said. "We thought perhaps you'd left again."

Fino shook her head and looked down at the few beads she still held in her palm. "No. I just don't feel like going out today." A strange thing to say considering one couldn't possibly stay inside a tipi all day unless they were ill. Interacting with others was a healthy way of living, and some villagers were beginning to wonder if maybe she'd caught a sickness.

"You're still thinking about Glass Eye," her aunt said as she went over to the far end of the tipi. She started lifting blankets, searching for something. Fino knew it was just an excuse for her to come inside and see how she was doing.

Glass Eye was the nickname Alternate had been given by the villagers. They were endlessly amused by the monocle he always wore. A few times the glass piece had disappeared and Fino had to track it down to the children who'd taken it. They never meant any harm, but she had given them a good scolding for it.

She said nothing to her aunt. Singing Bird was her maternal aunt and had taken most of the responsibility of looking after her and Yaghi since their parents died. She knew all about Fino's lust for revenge and always counseled her against the danger of letting a desire for vengeance consume her. Fino was old enough to make her own decisions at this point, but she had to be careful not to allow those decisions to involve other people besides her, Alternate, and Yaghi. She was beginning to find it difficult to do so.

When Singing Bird stopped rummaging through the blankets with nothing to show for her effort, she turned back to Fino. Faint lines of age creased at the edges of her eyes and around her mouth, showing a life of love and laughter. Her eyes were gentle and soft, reminding Fino of supple leather that hugged the curves of the body when worn. That was the effect her gaze had on everyone. Her hair was fastened in a single braid down past her mid-back, and she was clad in a deerskin dress with fringes on the sleeves and small shells sewn along the bottom hem.

"It's not good for you to be so isolated," Singing Bird told her with concern. "It would do you well to get out and be with your family."

Fino's shoulders slumped. "But I want to get this done before the big gathering that's in a few months." She picked up the boot again and tried to find where she'd left off.

Singing Bird went to crouch next to her and picked up the other boot to see the beadwork still unfinished. "Usually you finish one and then work on the other," she said, frowning. "You _are_ thinking about Glass Eye."

Fino stopped. "S-so? Of course I'm thinking about him. He's my friend and I don't even know where he's at right now. I'm just worried."

"Hmm." A smile flitted over Singing's Bird's comely features. People often said she and Fino's mother had looked very much alike. "I think it might be something else. Many of the elders are saying you're not feeling well, and I think they know why. I remember when I was your age."

Fino's hand shook a little. She stopped the needle before she pricked herself again. Keeping a steady tone, she said, "I'm feeling fine." She quickly regretted the statement, because she knew she was wrong. _I'm_ not _fine. Ever since Alternate left, I can't stop thinking about him. Where is he? I have to know._

It'd been a little over two weeks since Alternate had declared his decision to move out of the village. Although he hadn't burned any bridges with Fino, she was beginning to fear he might later on. Every other day she would mount up and head to the nearest white men's town to try and find him. She figured he might settle in that town, since it was closest to her village, but each time she couldn't find him. A few days ago she went to another town in the opposite direction, and still came up empty-handed. Where in the world could he be? He hadn't even bothered to visit her like he'd promised.

Worst of all she felt like a sitting duck. She was back to her old life of bemoaning her orphan status and the fact that the man who put her in that position was still on the loose. When Alternate was with her, she felt a camaraderie with him that she'd been unable to find with anyone else. He knew and understood her pain. He gave her the motivation to keep looking for Blush. This was why she wasn't able to fathom his reasons for wanting to leave the village, thereby leaving her. Why was he thrusting himself into a world that didn't understand his feelings the way she did? No one else out there cared about him. Did he really feel like he didn't belong with her?

_Belong with me?_ Fino wondered, still staring at the boot in her lap. _What does that even mean?_

"You're thinking about him again," Singing Bird teased.

Fino ignored the comment. Her thumb traced the beadwork on the boot. "Aunt, what does it mean to belong?"

Singing Bird blinked in surprise at the abrupt change of topic. She looked up and swept her gaze around the tipi. Along the outer edges were the various bedding and belongings of their relatives. "That is a difficult question, Fino. One could say you belong to your tribe, to your family. This is your home, where people love you and care for you. But even when one is surrounded by people, they can still feel alone."

Fino nodded slowly. _That's sort of how I feel right now without Alternate, yet I still feel like I belong here._ "Some of the things Alternate said… I think he's looking for a place to belong."

Her aunt appeared sad when she heard this. "I see. He did not like being here, I could tell. We, as human beings, like to be around others who are most similar to ourselves. That way we can understand each other. Our ways may have been too dissimilar to his. He may have felt we didn't understand him."

That was why Fino had tried so hard to find Alternate in a white town. "I guess I can't blame him. We were trying our best to make him feel at home, but there were some people who were making it difficult."

Singing Bird's eyebrows came down in thought.

"But did _I_ make it difficult for him, too?" Fino said, mostly to herself. She had to wonder if their different ways of finding Blush, as well as their personalities, had been the factors driving them apart. They'd worked fantastic together the time they went up against the Syndicate with Mingchao and the others, and Fino thought she'd found the perfect partner in her hunt for Blush. In hindsight she realized she'd been naïve. Relationships were more complicated than just having a common goal. There were always snags along the way, and sometimes those snags turned into tears that were difficult to mend if they became too large. This was especially risky when two people hardly knew one another.

"I guess I did," she concluded. "That last fight against Blush was probably what made him finally decide to leave." _I'm a liability to him. If he wants his revenge, then he can't get it with me messing up his plans._ But who was to say it was _her_ getting in the way? How come he wasn't to blame here?

"I believe he'll come around again," Singing Bird said reassuringly. "From what you told me, he may simply need time to sort out his thoughts and feelings. Have courage, my niece."

"I suppose you're right," Fino replied. Her heart was heavy enough to weigh her down to the floor. She wanted to believe Alternate just needed time, but the longer she waited, the more worried she became.


	4. Chapter 4

Her search for Alternate was futile. It had been a month now since he'd left, and still Fino found no sign of him.

The town she had chosen was the furthest yet, a two day ride from her village. It was near a large river that was so wide it needed a ferry to get to the other side. The streets were swarming with people heading to silver mines down south, and lines of wagons were waiting for a chance to use the ferry. Fino didn't want to try to estimate how many people populated this place, but it was the largest town she knew of around here.

As Fino was leading her horse down the town's main street she felt like she was walking in a dream. She was exhausted. The hotel room she stayed in last night had a terrible bed, and she kept tossing and turning and got little sleep. Maybe it wasn't just the bed, though. Her anxiety kept her awake at home as well. Now she was beginning to worry Alternate might be…well, gone forever, maybe dead. No one she asked had seen him, and it seemed all trace of him had vanished.

Her feelings were strange to her. Missing someone wasn't usually this intense. With any other person, the feeling would fade over time, although that didn't mean she no longer cared for someone. But when it came to Alternate, she couldn't stop missing him. It's like the longer he was gone, the more she wanted to see him.

 _I'm crazy to be searching like this,_ she thought as she walked. _It's like what my aunt said. Maybe I_ am _sick._ But how could she be sick? It could be the fact she wasn't eating much, and yet she was willing to travel like she had all the energy in the world. It was taking a toll on her body.

Then she started wondering. If indeed Alternate was alive and well, did he miss her, too? That he hadn't come to see her might be an answer. When she thought about that, it made her stomach roll. The idea of having breakfast made her want to hurl.

Fino felt her horse nudge her gently. He was a beautiful pinto, his white coat splashed with patches of rich bronze. It resembled snow on brown earth, and so Fino had named him Snow on the Earth. She brought up a hand to stroke his neck. "You sense what I'm feeling, don't you? I'm sorry. I've been driving you too hard lately. We'll go home today and take it easy, all right?"

All she felt like doing was sitting down. She led Snow on the Earth to a watering trough near a saloon and sat at the edge of the basin while her steed drank his fill. Once they got out onto the prairie he could eat some grass, but as for her… It wouldn't do for her to collapse on the way home.

Fino glanced back at the saloon behind her. She'd run out of food yesterday, and hadn't taken the time to find any more. Although she didn't like white people's food that often, there were a few dishes she found good. Still, the thought of eating at the moment made her nauseated. _But I need to eat. Maybe it'll help me feel better. I could at least eat a little bit._

Fino wrapped her horse's reins around the hitching post in front of the trough. Hoping they wouldn't turn her away, she entered the saloon and found it bustling with people. Nearly all of the twenty tables were full, including the seats at the bar. It was a clean place with a warm glow, and it seemed friendly enough. No one stopped to glare at her. A staircase led to a second floor where painted ladies were standing in their gaudy dresses, leaning over the railing to catch the eyes of potential patrons. On the walls were mounted heads of animals, such as bison, elk, and antelope. Behind the bar was a large painting with an epic scene of a ship battling raging seas, and from the ceiling hung unlit lanterns on iron chandeliers.

Fino stood there, feeling uncertain. Should she head for the bar, or take one of the remaining tables? She figured she should keep a low profile and take a table. The plan was to stay about a half-hour.

She picked her way around the crowd and found a seat close the wall near the staircase. It was secluded and would allow her to keep her back to the wall to watch the room. Alternate had taught her this technique, and she'd been using it since they started their search for Blush.

A waitress who had been flitting from table to table noticed her. With a smile, the young woman with curly blond hair and a pink dress skipped over toward Fino. "Fancy seeing an Indian here," she said kindly. "I haven't seen one in months."

Fino wanted to cringe, but she withheld. "What do you mean?"

"The Indians around here left when all these folks started showing up. It's because of the silver mines, you see. One white person is bad enough for the Indians."

"For some, maybe," Fino replied. "I'm just looking to get something to eat." She fished under her cape for a pouch containing some coins. "I'll have, uh…" She looked and saw a plate of food a man was eating at a table nearby. "I'll have whatever he's having. It looks good."

"Sure thing," the waitress said, and took her leave.

Fino sat back and waited. Her eyes scanned the saloon, settling on each group of people she could see. Aside from the women standing upstairs and the waitresses, Fino was the only other girl in the building, the only female customer. She supposed it was reasonable that mostly men were heading for the silver mines.

Her mind wandered back to the conversation she'd had with her aunt, about belonging and having a home. Fino would never feel at home in a place like this. She was too different from these people, and even if she spent years living in this town she still didn't think she could assimilate completely. Some part of her would always remain with her people.

Fino's finger traced a deep groove in the table's surface. The fact that part of her would remain with her people was because she already had a home she loved. What if she didn't? If she had nothing to go back to, and no place or community she loved, she could adopt a new life elsewhere, join a new people.

She stopped in her exploration of the groove. What did Alternate have to go back to? He had no real home, no one who cared about him except perhaps his father, but Gordy has been dead a long time now.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the waitress returned. The young woman set the plate down along with a glass of water and said, "I hope you like it. If not, I can get you something else."

"You're very kind," Fino replied, taking up the fork supplied to her. The dish was some sort of mixture of potatoes and vegetables. The smell was appealing, and her stomach growled. Her nausea had waned somewhat, so she took a small bite of the food. "It's good!"

When she looked back at the waitress, she found her staring out into the crowd. Fino followed her line of sight, but couldn't see what the young woman was looking at. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

The waitress jumped back to attention. "Oh! It's just… Well, some people just came in."

Fino waited for her to say she needed to go attend them, but the waitress remained. Her face betrayed her unease.

"Who is it?" Fino asked, trying to peer around her. People had stopped eating and lowered their jovial tones as they stared at a group of men who came in and made for the bar. Fino guessed there may have been about twenty of them, and judging by the reaction of the other customers the group might've been known, and not in a good way.

She took another bite of her food, relieved that her stomach seemed to be settling. _Hopefully I can get out of here before any trouble starts._

The waitress said in a whisper, "It's the Black Eagles. They're an outlaw gang."

Fino kept scooping the food into her mouth. She didn't realize how hungry she'd been this whole time. "Oh."

"Oh?!" the waitress replied, baffled by Fino's indifference. "You've never heard of them?"

"No. I've seen a lot of bad people. One gang's the same as another to me."

The waitress was speechless. "They're notorious for robbing trains and stagecoaches. A while back they burned down half a town to rob a bank! And you're telling me you've never heard of them?"

"No." Fino put down her fork and cast about the room. "Where's your sheriff, anyway? If these are wanted outlaws, then—"

"No one's been able to stand up to them," the waitress said. She looked back at the group near the bar. "It's best to just let them be. It doesn't look like they're here to cause trouble."

"It always appears that way. That's how they get you to let your guard down," Fino said in a low voice. She took a drink of water. "By the way, where might I go to relieve myself?"

"The water closet is out back," the waitress said, sounding regretful. "We're remodeling our indoor one. Go out the back door and it's right outside." With that, she scurried away with a whimper, steering clear of the bar.

Fino ate the last of her food and finished her water. The place was quieting down, but the rowdy outlaws at the bar were marring the peace. She noticed they were ordering multiple rounds of alcohol, which could only mean trouble later. Even the painted ladies had gone into hiding. She was glad to be leaving.

The water closet was outside where the waitress said it would be. Fino was grateful for the privacy, but the heat made it uncomfortable, not to mention the smell. She didn't have much of a choice, however, since there weren't any private outdoor locations in town for her to choose from.

After leaving the latrine, Fino went through the alley between the saloon and another building instead of going back inside. As she was coming out of the alley she heard the thunder of hooves and shouts. She stayed back to let the riders pass, and noted they were the same outlaws from before. _Leaving so soon?_ she wondered as she watched. Their horses were kicking up clouds of dust. The commotion alarmed the townspeople, and many ducked away into buildings.

Fino stepped onto the boardwalk in front of the saloon, moving toward her horse, but looked out at the gang that was leaving. A slant of sunlight gleamed off of something, and she blinked.

In the billowing haze of grit, Fino caught sight of a young man. Her heart could've burst from her chest and bled all over her feet. " _Alternate?!_ "

It was him. It had to be. The sunlight had struck his monocle, and she could make out his height and build on his horse. But his appearance was so brief Fino didn't have time to confirm it. Instead, she did what her instincts told her to do: run after him.

"Alternate!" she called, dashing into the street. She chased the gang as they sped away, and before long she was coughing and rubbing dust out of her eyes. She stumbled in the road and tripped in a rut.

Fino was spitting dirt out of her mouth when she looked up again. The outlaws were riding out of town, and they were moving too fast for her to catch up on foot. She ran back to her horse and spurred him forward to give chase.

 _That had to have been Alternate!_ _But I didn't see him in the saloon with the others. Why?_ She must've missed him somehow, perhaps when she left for the latrine?

The exit leading out of town was marked by an iron arch, with a sign hanging from it reading "Golden." Fino spotted about ten men on horseback waiting at the arch, looking out toward the departing outlaws. She could tell by their dress that these men weren't with the gang. A few of them held rifles in their hands.

She planned on barreling by, but they turned their horses to face her. One of them raised his rifle to take aim. "Stop!" he commanded.

Fino fully believed he'd shoot, so she stopped. "My friend is with that gang," she explained in a hurry. "I need to catch up!"

"You're not going anywhere," the man at the lead told her. "You're going to leave those men alone."

Fino saw the copper star on his jacket. "Are you the sheriff? How can you just let those people get away like that?"

"It would take the military to stop those people," the sheriff said. "But the military has bigger problems to deal with. We were here to make sure they all left peacefully."

"Well, I don't care what you're here for," Fino said. "I saw my friend with them and I need to stop them."

"You sure it was him?"

"I think so."

"You think so? You're going to run after a dangerous gang without knowing for sure your friend was really with them? They'll put a bullet between your eyes before you can even ask!"

Fino pulled out her Zodiac Gun. "Just let them try." Before she could barge through, however, the sheriff and his deputies aimed their rifles at her. It crossed her mind to use her gun on them, but then she remembered she didn't have any ammo in it, and her nearest supply was in one of the saddle bags. She grimaced, knowing she was cornered.

* * *

She stood in front of the wall of wanted posters with the sheriff behind her smoking a cigarette. His deputies disbanded and left her staring at the pictures etched onto tattered papers that looked as if they would tear away at the slightest breeze. Some appeared ancient, whereas others were newer. A few spots were empty where the posters had been removed, a bounty paid.

"See 'im?" the sheriff asked. He'd introduced himself as Dawson, the sheriff of Golden for almost five years. He stood just off the boardwalk in front of his office while he waited for Fino to point out a poster on the wall next to the office's door.

Fino had never seen so many wanted posters in one place. Her eyes roamed over the wall. She should be able to quickly pick out Alternate if he was there, but she wasn't seeing him. Some of the pictures were so atrocious it would be impossible to match them to any human being at all.

"The posters for the Black Eagles are up to date, newest members and all," Dawson said. He took a drag of his cigarette and waited. He was somewhere in his forties with auburn hair and a matching mustache. His clothes consisted of a long brown overcoat, a faded green checkered shirt, and a pair of denim jeans with boots.

Fino saw a ray of hope. "I don't think I see him here. But that doesn't mean it wasn't him I saw."

"Everyone who joins that gang becomes a wanted man, or woman," Dawson said. "Doesn't matter if they did something or not."

"But—"

"Now, I just saved you from getting a bullet in the brain. Your friend isn't with the Black Eagles. That should give you peace of mind."

It seemed logical, what Dawson was saying. If she wasn't finding Alternate's face on the posters, then it should stand that he isn't part of the Black Eagles, and that should be a relief to her. But it wasn't. Something still…

She looked up again at the posters, stopping at each one. Dawson sighed behind her, and she heard him walk back into his office. Fino inspected the highest posters. The sun glared down into her eyes, and she blinked in the brightness.

"Sheriff!" Fino said. "I see him!"

Dawson returned in a hurry, but his expression was one of skepticism. "What? Where?"

"That one on top, the highest one." Fino found herself trembling as she pointed.

The sheriff squinted, and pursed his lips. "I just put that one up a week ago." He returned to his office and came back with a ladder. He leaned it on the wall, scaled it, and returned with the poster, handing it to Fino.

"It's definitely him," she said. The artist even took care to give Alternate his monocle. "But none of this makes sense to me! Why would Alternate join an outlaw gang? He's not—"

Her heart almost stopped. She remembered the story about how Alternate almost ran a passenger train full of innocent people off a cliff. There was also that time he shot Mingchao in the chest. He'd held a gun to Fino's head, set a building on fire in Las Vegas, and nearly killed a young kidnapped girl with a stick of dynamite. Of course, Blush had a lot to do with it as well, but Alternate never tried to stop him.

 _Alternate was just misguided,_ Fino tried to reason. _He knows better now. He's good!_ But the poster didn't lie. He'd done something to get him on the wanted list, and he would know he's on the wrong side of the law. He hadn't gone running back to her for help, either.

Fino's hands were clutching the poster so hard it was crushing the parchment. "Alternate," she whispered, "why? Why are you doing this?"


	5. Chapter 5

Fino heard Dawson coming to stand behind her, and she turned and looked up at him. "There has to be some kind of mistake. Alternate used to get into trouble, but he doesn't do that anymore!"

The sheriff narrowed his eyes. "If that were the case, then he wouldn't be on this wanted poster, would he?"

Crushing the poster in her hands, Fino resisted the urge to toss the wad to the ground and glared up at the sheriff. "Listen, I'm absolutely positive my friend hasn't done anything to deserve this bounty. Tell me there's something I can do to right this."

Dawson seemed skeptical. He stared at her for a few seconds and said, "I don't think there really is, unless you want to bring him in yourself and collect the bounty. But he'd still have to stand trial, and even then I can't guarantee he won't hang."

The idea of Alternate marching to the gallows horrified Fino. Among her people, perpetrators weren't punished the same way white men punished their criminals. Instead, a highly respected mediator brought the offender face-to-face with the offended to talk matters through and restore peace and harmony to the community. The purpose was to have the offender see the damage they'd done, and then they could make appropriate reparations.

Fino was certain Alternate hadn't done anything worthy of hanging—that is unless he killed someone, but she refused to believe he had. "If I can get him out of that gang, would he be spared?"

The sheriff shook his head slowly. "When you're on the list, you're on the list. It's part of my oath that anyone on that list who is captured stands trial. I'm afraid I can't change that for you. It's not in my authority."

The wadded poster was still in Fino's hand. She stared down at it in frustration. _There has to be something I can do, some way around this. Alternate is innocent, I know it!_

While she was thinking this, she noticed Dawson glaring back at his office. His hands on his hips, he shifted the cigarette in his mouth from one side to the other. He sighed and stomped over to the open door.

Fino could read his body language well enough. She followed him to the office and peered around him through the doorway. In the light haze of dust in the room, the sunlight streamed in and fell over a portion of Dawson's desk near the back wall. In the dimness was a man sitting in the chair with his feet propped up, his spurs glinting in a sliver of light as he jiggled his foot.

Dawson let out a tired grunt. "Quincy," he said. "Of course you'd be here."

The man's twitching foot stopped as he noticed Fino behind the sheriff. "I wasn't aware you'd have company," he said with a smooth drawl.

"This girl's here because she saw her friend with the Black Eagles."

"That's unfortunate."

"Indeed it is."

A silence descended, and Fino felt awkward. She could sense their hesitation. They didn't want to talk in her presence.

"When'd you get into town?" Dawson asked as he entered the room.

"A few minutes ago," came the answer.

"Trailing the Black Eagles, as usual?"

"Always."

"But never too closely, am I right?"

Fino's vision had adjusted to the faint lighting. She saw the man in the chair smiling. He removed his feet from the desk and leaned forward, grinning at her. "You said your friend was with the Black Eagles?"

Something in his tone annoyed Dawson. "That's true, but she ain't gettin' involved."

"I'll be the one to decide that," Fino said firmly.

Both men stared at her. It always surprised people when she asserted herself, especially white men. They didn't understand that Indian women were not like white women.

Fino gave the man at the desk a level stare. "Why are you asking?"

"You need help?"

She hated when people answered questions with questions, but she would answer his with another. "Should I need help?"

The man chuckled with amusement and rose from his seat. He was wearing a dark pair of blue denim jeans, a black shirt and waistcoat, and a gray neckerchief, all in need of a good cleaning. His black hat was resting on the desktop. As he came forward, Fino thought his short wavy hair had a reddish hue to it. As he regarded her, he rubbed the stubble on his jaw. He was probably in his mid-twenties somewhere.

"You'd have to have a lot of guts to go up against the Black Eagles," he told her. "They're a mean lot."

"I'm not going up against them," Fino replied. She glanced at Dawson. "I'm just going to convince my friend to come back home with me."

"Why, is he your lover or something?"

"No!" Fino barked, and she felt bad for it. It's not like she thought Alternate was gross or anything. "He's my friend."

"But precious enough that you'd risk your life to approach an outlaw gang to get him back?"

Fino nodded with certainty. "I'm not their enemy. I don't care about bounties or whatever."

Quincy lifted an eyebrow, and then smiled. "Well, the fact is _I_ do. I've been following the Black Eagles for months now. I aim to get the bounty on every last one, but there's only one man I've really got a bead on." His expression then became cordial. A nice trick, Fino thought, but she wasn't fooled. "I'll tell you what. I can help—"

"Absolutely not," Dawson cut in. He stepped between them and addressed Fino. "This man here is Quincy Phillips, a bounty hunter known in these parts. He has some sort of vendetta with the Black Eagles. It wouldn't be wise to get yourself caught up with him."

Fino ignored him. "How can you help if you're a bounty hunter?" she asked Quincy. "You want to collect all the bounties, including the one on Alternate. I can't let you do that."

Quincy picked up his hat and put it on. His grin had vanished. "I've had a couple of bad run-ins with them, so the reason why I stay behind them is so they don't see me. They see me, they bolt. My aim is to get as close as possible so I can pick them off."

"There's some forty of them in all, Quincy," Dawson said with disbelief.

"Twenty-five," the bounty hunter corrected. "I got three more the last time we clashed."

The sheriff took a step back and gaped at him. "Do you really plan on killing them all like that?"

Fino suddenly realized where this was headed. "You want me to get close to them."

"Something like that," said Quincy.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Dawson sucked in a breath. "You want her to get information."

Quincy smiled in answer.

"And why should I help you?" Fino asked, feeling defensive. She didn't like what she was hearing. What information could he be talking about? "What would I gain? I don't need your help, and I don't want to get tangled up in another fight. I've got my own battles." The sheriff was standing stiffly beside her and glaring at the hunter. He knew something she didn't.

Quincy watched the sheriff. "Someone owes me a favor."

Fino looked to Dawson. His face was grim. "I don't know if I want to owe it to you like this."

"The sheriff here has connections," the hunter told Fino. "In fact, _he_ has a favor coming from someone else, someone by the name of Judge Eli Alverado. We're all just full of favors these days."

Fino was following his lead, but she was still a little uncertain. She knew judges were people who could sentence criminals to death, or set them free, although something called a jury had something to do with it, too. How exactly would that work? "So you want me to help you get information, and if I do, you'll get this favor from the sheriff to get a favor from the judge?"

Quincy nodded. "And the judge can get your friend off the wanted list."

Should she trust this man? When she looked in his eyes, she could tell he wasn't lying. Fino had become a good judge of liars over the years.

"So," Quincy continued, "you get your friend back, and I get my bounties."

"Do you really plan on taking them all?" Fino asked. "And what kind of information do you want me to get?"

The bounty hunter yawned and scratched the back of his head. "I'm looking to get as many as I can," he replied, "but all at once would be nice. However…" He checked the clock on the wall behind the desk. "I need to get a move-on."

Fino's mind raced. Should she accept his help? "Is it true that you owe this favor?" she asked the sheriff.

He hesitated at first, but then nodded. "And it's true about the judge. I saved his daughter from a stagecoach robbery a few years back. I never thought to take him up on the favor."

_He might've forgotten by now,_ Fino considered as she studied the bounty hunter. He was patiently awaiting her response. _What if the judge wasn't serious, or won't uphold the favor because Alternate is with the Black Eagles? So much could go wrong with this._ And she didn't want to get herself on the wrong side of the law, either.

"And I saved his young son when he was taken by Indians," Quincy added, tipping his chin at Dawson. "Got him back without a scratch."

This made Fino straighten. "Wait… You saved him from Indians?"

The hunter eyed her. "You're wondering if I killed some."

Fino was quiet, her hands balled into fists. He'd read her mind.

"I killed one." There was no humor or malice in his words, but they were somber, almost regretful. "I don't like killing a man without a bounty, but I'll kill if I have to, don't matter if he's red or white."

Everyone who knew Fino knew she didn't forgive anyone who killed Indians. It didn't matter who was in the wrong. She'd seen enough murder against her people, and against other tribes. Anyone with Indian blood on their hands was anathema to her.

She turned away from the two men and made her way back to the door. Dawson made a sound as if to stop her, but Fino said, "Forget it. I don't need your help. You can save your favors for someone else." No one said anything as she left.

It was stupid, really. What Quincy was offering was the answer to her prayers. Alternate could get off free, but was it as easy as it sounded? Fino knew better than to think that. Nothing was ever that easy. What if her efforts ended up getting Alternate killed? Or what if he didn't want to leave the gang? Quincy would get his information, but she wouldn't get her friend back.

It was too risky, she decided. And she would rather be shot at by dangerous outlaws than work with an Indian-killer.


	6. Chapter 6

Fino chose to stay in town that night. She was too tired to travel further, but her thoughts were still roaming over the earlier conversation. Most of her resented the whole affair, but a smaller part whispered in the back of her mind that she was foolish to reject Quincy's offer. He knew more about the Black Eagles than she did. His knowledge would likely protect her. She would only stumble into the group like an idiot, begging Alternate to return with her.

Maybe the sheriff was right. She was just going to get herself killed.

As Fino was bedding down in a cheap hotel room, she glanced at the Zodiac Gun resting on the nightstand beside her. Surely that would be enough. She could scare the outlaws and convince them she wasn't someone to be trifled with. They'd leave her alone after that.

But the question still lingered. What if Alternate refused to leave? She couldn't force him with the gun, because then she'd definitely look like an idiot. Yet she would rather look like an idiot than say she didn't try.

Although troubled, she was still able to sleep through most of the night. As much as Fino wanted to take off after the outlaws earlier that day, she learned from townsfolk that the gang was camped not too far from town, in a place called Moon Canyon. She planned on following their trail to the canyon in the morning, because she needed rest to restore her strength.

In the morning she picked up a quick meal at the restaurant she'd visited the day before and headed out. She followed the road, which was a typical rural roadway, wide and carved out by wagon ruts and hooves. With the many horses the outlaws had, it was easy to see that they traveled on the road before veering off into the desert. Fino guided her horse off the trail and followed the tracks. The morning was warm and the sky was clear, warning of a hot day ahead. Combined with the tension of meeting these outlaws, Fino could already feel the sweat under her arms and on her back. Her heart was racing.

On one hip she had the Zodiac Gun, tucked in her sash, and on the other hip was her tomahawk. In the saddlebags of her horse were a few small pouches of animal essence, one of which contained the splintered remains of a cow bone, and another with a couple of dried scorpions. It wasn't much, but she didn't have time to go looking for more.

After riding for a half-hour through nearly flat, sagebrush terrain, Fino saw the canyon coming up. She'd been expecting a river canyon, but instead viewed a mountain canyon. She was nearing the side of the valley, and the mountains crept up in dry, craggy peaks of conglomerated browns and tans. The tracks continued to lead in this direction, and Fino marveled at the path. As she stared up into the canyon she could see why the outlaws had chosen this place to hide. It was steep and rocky, and there was likely a spring up there or else the gang wouldn't be camping in the middle of the desert. Anyone coming up this way to bother them would be at a disadvantage of being downhill.

Fino encouraged her horse up the trail. Snow on the Earth was strong, and a horse she'd personally chosen a few years ago. He was worth more than a group of ten regular horses. He labored up the slope at a steady pace. A trail had been worn into the rough dirt by use, and the tracks kept going, but soon the path curved up ahead, around a bend that concealed the rest of the way. Fino stopped and dismounted.

 _This is where I stop and move on foot,_ she decided. This was the perfect place for bandits to hide in ambush. Even as she thought this, she wondered if there were watchmen about, spying her right now. She tensed and went searching for the ammunition in the saddle bags. Fino ground-hitched her horse, and then went to collect a shard of cow bone. She took the Zodiac Gun from her sash and crept up the trail.

Everything was quiet. She didn't hear anyone talking. The sound of her feet on the gravely ground seemed almost too loud, and she stopped to listen. Had they heard her coming and hid? Did they have a sniper somewhere up in the rocks, aiming to shoot her dead?

Or maybe they weren't even there. They could've headed out earlier, but where? She would've encountered them at some point had they headed back to town.

On silent feet, Fino made for the bend. The wide, rounded corner would've made it difficult for her to be discreet and peek around the other side, but she flattened herself against it and slowly inched along the uneven wall.

She controlled her breathing, but her heart was pounding and her limbs began to tingle. Sweat beaded on her face, and her headband was beginning to feel damp. She blinked away the droplets that stung her eyes. When she at last cleared the bend, she found an open space, and above it was a large cave with a low, wide entrance. It was some thirty feet above the ground, but there was a small trail leading up to it along the mountain wall. It was probably where the outlaws camped out at night. On the ground below it were horse droppings and miscellaneous supplies stored neatly near the cliff face below the cave. A wagon containing some crates was parked beside them. Fresh tracks dotted the earth, both equine and human. The horses were gone.

Just because the horses were gone didn't mean no one was home but she couldn't see into the cave from her vantage point. The air was still quiet, and she felt herself relaxing despite the internal warnings.

She walked to the supplies on the ground. There were some saddlebags, stacks of rope, and a few wooden crates identical to the ones in the wagon. Fino picked up a bulging burlap bag to find someone's clothes stuffed inside. She couldn't tell if they might've been Alternate's, and she wasn't about to pull them out to see. One of the saddlebags contained boxes of bullets and some rather old looking guns. Another had items she couldn't make out. Some of the things white men carried were a mystery to her.

When she was done rummaging through their belongings, Fino made for the crates. She thought they might be sealed, but when she pried her fingers under the lid of one, it came away easily.

Fino knew what dynamite looked like. The stacked rows of pale-colored sticks appeared to have a few missing considering the tight way they'd been arranged. The open spaces made it obvious.

Quincy had wanted her to obtain information. Did the dynamite have something to do with it? Fino remembered what the waitress at the restaurant had said. Dynamite would make the perfect weapon to set a town ablaze, and if the gang did it to distract people when they robbed that bank, then… Could they be plotting another robbery?

Her soul grew cold. They could be out there now, robbing another bank. And Alternate was with them. A town could be in flames while the outlaws got away, her friend in their midst. What was Alternate thinking now? What _did_ he think when they were stealing from innocent people?

Fino didn't believe he could approve of any of it. Did Alternate have some ulterior motive? But what could it possibly be?

She was replacing the lid to the crate when she heard hoof beats. They were still a ways off, but she knew there was little time. Running back to her horse, Fino brought him into the area of the cave. The trail led out beyond it, further into the canyon, and so she took the exit. She'd gone some five hundred feet before stopping, wanting to put a safe distance between herself and the camp.

But now Fino was in a hard spot. If they found her and decided to give chase, she'd have no choice but to go further up the canyon, and who knew where that led? Probably to a dead end for all she knew.

This brought to mind another problem: Even if she remained undetected, how would she get out? The outlaws were blocking the exit!

_I'd have to wait until nightfall, when they're all asleep, assuming they don't post sentries, and they probably will. But if I can talk to them peacefully, maybe they'll let me go._

Fat chance. But she took the Zodiac Gun and reluctantly slipped it back into her sash along with the tomahawk. She wouldn't attempt to deceive them by trying to hide her weapons, and it wouldn't be wise to go unarmed anyway. _I'll defend myself if need be, but I'll only do it as a last resort._

Quietly, she tiptoed toward the camp, stopping every five steps to listen. The sounds of the men seemed to be confined to the area of the cave, but the noise echoed over the walls of the canyon, rowdy laughter and snorting horses. Fino couldn't decide if it was better that the outlaws were in a good mood, or if interrupting that mood would be worse. She had to wonder _why_ they were in such high spirits.

As she came close to the entrance of their encampment, she spread out her arms, palms out, in hopes of sending the message that she meant them no harm. If Alternate was with them, then she may have a better chance of success.

She emerged into plain view of the gang. There were fewer men than she recalled seeing in town, meaning this wasn't the entire force. Her eyes instantly sought out Alternate, but found him missing. Her heart dropped.

It didn't take long for the outlaws to notice her. About five of them were hauling some heavy crates up toward the cave, while around ten more were milling about, unloading their horses and joking about some previous incident.

One of them near the cave gave a shout, and the group froze. They grabbed their pistols, glaring at her with their eyes shifting over her appearance. She probably looked like a child to them. Fino was short for her age, but then women among her people were usually short. But the fact that she was an Indian more likely put them on extra alert.

She refrained from exuding an aggressive vibe. Her palms were sweating and her mouth was dry as the men slowly approached her, their guns aimed at her.

Keeping her voice steady, she said, "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I'm not here to bother anyone. I just came looking for someone."

At her perfect English, the men were amazed and exchanged glances. A few lowered their guns slightly. Movement near the cave entrance caught Fino's attention, and one man came jogging down the trail. A light jingling sound could be heard as he came toward her.

"You're looking for whom exactly?" he asked with a cautious air. He wore a bizarre outfit. The fabric was a light color, almost white, with a jacket and trousers that flared out toward the feet. Hanging from fringes on his trousers and sleeves were tiny bells. He had unruly blond hair and a lazy smile, but when he looked at Fino she felt uneasy. There was something more sinister behind that genial façade.

"My friend," she answered. "His name is Alternate."

The men were again surprised. They watched their leader, and his smile wavered. "Alternate? He isn't here."

"I see that," said Fino. "Will he be back soon?"

"What do you want with him?"

"It's a personal matter. When will he be back?"

Her curt responses were annoying him, she noticed. "He may not be back for some time, maybe not until tomorrow. He's out with Holloway."

"Are you the leader here?"

"I'm second-in-command. Holloway's the boss." He paused and examined her a moment. "I remember you. I saw you at the saloon, a strange place for an Indian to be." His eyes then narrowed with suspicion. "You're not with the Preacher's Kid, are you?"

"The what?"

The man spat off to the side, a gesture of disgust. "The _bounty hunter_. They call him the Preacher's Kid. He carries a rifle called the Lead Messenger."

Fino knew lead was another word for bullets. "I don't know anyone by that name." She suspected, however, that he was implying Quincy.

"He's been following us," the man told her. The others around him were grim. Just the name of the bounty hunter killed their mood. "We've lost nearly half our number since he started pursuing us. He's really quite relentless." The smile returned. "Anyone we find associated with him, we kill."

Fino sighed. "Well, I assure you I don't have anything to do with him."

"That's very good."

A few uncomfortable moments passed between them. Fino saw the men staring at her, some of them with less-than-pure intent. She let her expression harden. "I suppose if Alternate isn't here, then I should be going."

"Go?" the man asked. His lips pulled back into a rictus of yellow teeth. "Why, stay here with us and have a good time!"

 _I think I know where this is going_. Fino brought her fingers to her lips and whistled for her horse. The sound split the air, and Snow was heard running. She waited patiently, even while the men were beginning to bring their weapons up again and come toward her. She saw one of them run his tongue over his sunburnt lips, grinning at her with a devious glint in his eyes. The second-in-command stood there while they began to surround her, his arms crossed in approval.

Fino's horse came careening into the camp. He rushed past and she grasped the saddle, swinging up. She locked her sights on the other exit, not bothering to draw her weapons despite the bullets that were beginning to cut the air past her head. One grazed her right shoulder, tearing the leather and leaving a hot trail in her skin. Hooves sounded behind her, gaining ground. Her only worry was that her horse would trip down the winding and uneven trail, but if she could get out onto the open flats she would be home free. She doubted they'd care to follow her all the way back to town.

The steep trail almost caused her horse to stumble a few times, and a cascade of rubble tumbled down the slope ahead of her. Bullets ricocheted off the stone walls of the canyon. Fino fought to stay in the saddle as her horse rocked and bounced violently. She kicked her heels into his flank as hard as she could, but Snow didn't need goading. The thunder of hooves behind them resembled a fleeing herd of buffalo pouring down the narrow canyon trail. The closer the ruckus got, the more tempted Fino was to draw the Zodiac Gun.

The end of the canyon came into view, and Fino grinned. Her horse was equally glad, and gave one last push for the finish. Just as they were about to cross into the desert, a boom knocked Fino from her saddle and sent both her and her horse crashing to the ground. She landed on her side and rolled, while her horse sprawled several feet away. Chunks of earth and rocks pelted them. Snow scrambled up and hastened away in terror.

Cursing, Fino tried to run after him, but he was stuck in flight mode, as any sane creature ought to be. Fino began running, but knew it was useless to escape the outlaws on foot.

It took her a few moments to realize the thundering hooves had stopped. Drawing her gun, Fino whirled around and brought it up, but found the outlaws had scrambled back up the trail and into their fortress of stone. A mound of debris lay spilled at the mouth of the canyon, almost blocking the trail, but not so much that the outlaws couldn't get around it. So why did they turn back?

Fino examined her dirty shoulder and found it bleeding slightly. She'd have to get it cleaned and bandaged to be on the safe side. Looking out onto the plain, she saw her horse standing in the distance and staring at her, as if to ask what had happened.

The explosion reminded her of dynamite, and since the outlaws had dynamite did they throw a stick at her? It seemed foolish considering what they managed to do to the trail.

She waited a few more minutes before slipping the Zodiac back into her sash. It was good she didn't have to use it. She wanted to remain somewhat on the outlaws' good side and show them that she wasn't a threat.

Fino whistled for her horse and inspected the rest of her body for injuries, but found none. It could've been much worse. Had Snow fallen on her she would've been crippled or killed.

She was about to swing up into the saddle again when there was movement from her peripheral vision. It came from the canyon mouth. Drawing her gun again, Fino waited.

A small figure appeared from behind the mound of debris, wearing dirty mismatched clothes and a small straw hat to shade his face. His dark eyes gazed at her seriously. He held his hands out to show he was unarmed, and then came trotting toward her. Fino didn't know what to make of him. He seemed harmless enough, but she kept her gun out.

When he stopped in front of her, he said nothing. They stood there for a time, staring at each other with curiosity.

"Who are you?" Fino asked at last.

The boy eyed her, and then shook his head.

"What, you can't talk?"

He shook his head again.

"Did you cause that explosion?"

A white, toothy grin cracked over the boy's face. He reached back into his pants and pulled out a stick of dynamite. This wasn't the same kind of stick Fino remembered seeing in the outlaw camp. This one was wrapped with red paper.

"You know, that's dangerous for a kid to handle," Fino said, but the boy's grin never faltered. He was probably the same age as Yaghi, which softened her heart. "Why are you in the canyon throwing dynamite? Were you trying to help me?"

He pointed at her shoulder, a question on his face.

She fingered the tear and frowned at it. "I guess I should get back to town." If the boy couldn't talk, then she wouldn't be getting any answers. "Where'd you come from, anyway?"

He indicated the general direction of Golden.

"Well, you should get back, too. If those outlaws saw you throw that dynamite…"

The boy nodded somberly in understanding, but there was a gleam in his eye that told Fino he wasn't scared.

She offered him a ride on Snow, and they rode back to town together. She found it hard to believe that a young child with dynamite just so happened to show up when she needed help. Something was amiss, and Fino wanted to find out what it was.


	7. Chapter 7

It had taken Fino a while to find a doctor willing to treat her. The wound was shallow, and minor enough that it didn't take long for the doctor to clean and bind it. The physician, Dr. Mason, muttered under his breath as he worked, about "bigotry," "fear," and "discrimination," and how "unchristian" it all was. He'd gladly taken Fino into his office, but didn't ask any questions about how she came into her condition. Fino was grateful that he respected her privacy, but she could tell he was concerned and fighting the urge to inquire.

"Is your family nearby?" Dr. Mason asked after fastening the last of the bandages. He was a short man with thick spectacles. He was balding, but hair remained at his temples and circled his head from the ears on back. He was kind and Fino felt comfortable in his presence.

"About two days away," she replied, allowing him at least that much information. "I've been looking for a friend of mine."

"Found him yet?"

"No."

"Ah. I'm sorry."

Fino nodded in thanks. She went to fish some money from her pouch, and stared down at the coins in her palm. Alternate had taught her how to count money. She'd memorized the numbers associated with each coin color and size. She never understood why it had to be so complicated, but the more she spent time in the white world, the more necessary it became that she know how their world functioned. Over time, she found herself becoming a sort of bridge between the whites and her people, in a similar way traders were. _Trading wouldn't be such a bad profession_ , she thought. _I could travel everywhere and see all kinds of people._ How much she had changed since meeting Mingchao and her friends! Her vision of the world was widening.

Those thoughts were interrupted when she heard the doctor clear his throat. "There will be no payment for this," he said, smiling at her. "It's on the house."

"What's on the house?"

"The payment."

"The payment is on the roof?"

"N-no, I mean you don't have the pay me a fee because I said so."

"Oh. Okay." Fino still had a long ways to go before her vision of the world was wide enough to understand Americans.

Giving him her thanks, she stepped out of the small building that was the doctor's office. Snow was hitched at a rail there, watching her. Fino noted the subdued atmosphere in the street. Ever since the Black Eagles appeared yesterday, everyone was as wary as a deer in a meadow. With a pang of guilt, she knew she may have disturbed the harmony by going to the outlaw camp. Would the gang return? Since this was the closest town to the camp, they likely would.

The boy she had ridden into town with disappeared not long after arriving. He'd slid out of the saddle and dashed off down the street, and wouldn't stop no matter how much she yelled after him. Fino noted the direction he left, and how he'd made a bee line for a hotel. She had expected him to enter the hotel, but instead he slipped into the adjacent alley.

Fino walked to the hotel. It was unassuming with a plain face and a sign that read "High Western Hotel." It was two stories tall, but even from her position she could tell it didn't have many rooms; it a cheap place. As she passed the alley, there was a staircase leading to the second level, another entrance. This may have been where the boy went.

Her suspicions grew, but she wasn't about to jump to any conclusions just yet. She decided to enter from the lobby. The inside was as simple as the outside, and behind an undecorated desk stood a woman who looked like she was about ready to crumble to dust, she was that old. Fino wasn't sure the woman could even see her as she came in.

Fino approached the desk, and when the old woman didn't greet her, she said, "Um, did you see a boy come in here earlier?"

To her surprise, the woman suddenly moved. The mass of wrinkles around her mouth worked over her toothless gums, and her gray eyes opened. Her snowy white hair was pulled up in a knot over her head like a wispy cloud, and her red dress seemed as faded as her years, every bone sticking out under the threadbare fabric.

Apparently her hearing hadn't faded, nor her vision. She stared at Fino for a moment, and then she shook her head.

"Is there a boy staying here?" Fino asked.

Again the old woman shook her head.

"Are you sure? I saw a kid come running into the alley beside this building. I thought maybe he used the stairs outside to get upstairs…"

The woman stared, her answer the same.

"He wears old clothes and a straw hat."

The crone bent to retrieve something from behind the counter. She heaved up a large book and set it down gently on the desk. Fino was amazed the weight of the book didn't break the clerk's arms off.

The thick book creaked as it opened, the pages crackling as they were slowly turned. It was the hotel's guest registry. A bony finger traced the most recently etched lines, stopping at each name as if the woman needed a moment to remember.

Curious, Fino leaned forward to see. She'd learned a little of the English alphabet and some pronunciation of the letters from traders, though she was far from literate. She only hoped she could see a name she knew.

Fino's finger flew down on a name, bumping the old woman's hand and making her frown. "Who is this?" Fino asked quickly. "What does that say?"

The clerk's eyes narrowed in annoyance, but she gently brushed Fino's hand away. "Quincy Phillips," she replied in a cracked voice, her words a little slurred from lack of teeth.

"I knew it!" Fino nearly shouted in triumph. "Where is he? What room?"

Now the woman was suspicious.

"I'm an acquaintance of his," Fino explained. Even that statement seemed a stretch since she only met Quincy just yesterday, and not for long.

The clerk weighed the truth of her words, and took so long in replying that Fino was beginning to feel awkward. "Room Nine," the woman said, pointing to a nearby hallway.

Fino ran for the hall. Luckily she could read numbers as well, but only so far. She knew nine and six looked similar to each other, one came before the other, and nine was larger than six. As soon as she spotted the right door, she hesitated. Should she be polite and knock, or bust through like she wanted to? Quincy was a bounty hunter and no doubt skilled with a gun. It wouldn't be wise to surprise him.

She knocked. When there was no answer, she tried again. Nothing. Just her luck he wouldn't be in. Or was he? He could be refusing to answer.

"Mr. Phillips?" Fino called. "Are you in?"

Silence. On a hunch, she tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. Now this was an even more precarious situation. "Mr. Phillips, I'm coming in," she announced.

The door swung open slowly, and she was met with an unoccupied room. Apparently the hotel offered only the bare bones of amenities. There was a bed and a chair in one corner and a wash basin in another. A set of dresser drawers were situated next to the bed with a dusty mirror hanging from the wall above it. This must've been the "fancy" room considering the chamber pot resting beneath a chair with a hole in the seat. Fino averted her eyes from it.

The bed was neatly made and didn't look like anyone had touched it in a while. A suitcase rested at the foot, its latches shut. She could see another case peeking out from beneath the bed. Near the wash basin was a small bag that likely contained toiletries, but all the pieces were put away.

Fino sighed. Why would Quincy leave his own door unlocked? No one with a brain would do that. _Unless he didn't intend to go far._

She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, and she looked over her shoulder. Standing in the doorway with both hands braced on the frames was Quincy, glowering at her.

"Are you always of the habit of entering without permission?" he asked.

"I knocked," Fino replied, feeling cross that he'd accuse her. How did she not hear him come in? "And I announced myself…"

"That old woman gave you my room number?"

"You send children out to do your dirty work?"

Quincy straightened. "So you figured that out already."

"I figured it was either you or the sheriff, but I ruled out the sheriff because I thought he had an affinity for children."

The bounty hunter smirked. "You figured right."

"Why, then? Do you have any idea what you've done? Now they might move!"

Quincy pushed past her and entered the room. He didn't order her to leave, so she took it she was allowed to stay.

Reaching under his bed he pulled out the case and set it on the sheets. It was much longer than Fino had thought, and narrow. He flipped the clasps up and opened the lid. Lifting something out, he turned back to Fino with a rifle resting in his hands. "They won't move," he said, "not yet, at least." He took the chair next to the bed. With a cloth taken from the trunk, he began polishing the barrel of the rifle. It gleamed golden, and Fino noticed the molded wings against each side of the barrel near the stock. "I helped you because chances were you wouldn't get out alive. Sticky told me they almost had you. I sent him to make sure you got out all right, because I knew what you were going to try."

"Sticky?" Fino asked. "Is that the boy?"

Quincy nodded. "Good kid, and tougher than he looks. Saved his life some years ago and never left me alone, so he travels with me everywhere. I think he came from some Mexican village, orphaned maybe. Hasn't ever spoken a word, either. He has to use signs." He looked up from his work. "But you didn't come here to ask me about him."

"If you think I came here to ask you for help, then you're—"

"Right," Quincy interrupted. "They'll be more reluctant to let you in next time, but Sticky said you never used your weapons, which might've made a good impression on them. You still have a chance." He tossed the cloth back into the open gun case. "My offer still stands. You saw what bad men they all were, but I won't touch a hair on your friend's head. I'll personally see that he gets all charges cleared. I have the influence."

Fino swallowed, feeling heat rise to her face. Even if she succeeded in getting Alternate out of the gang, he would be on the run the rest of his life. There was nothing she could do to help him with that, and she didn't know anyone else who could, either. She'd been foolish to reject Quincy's help. She'd be doing her friend a serious disservice if she didn't try to find a way to clear his name.

There was still the problem of Quincy being an Indian-killer, though. How could she work around that? His proposal could be a tool for her to reach her goal. The man who made it a sport killing her people used her family to find her tribe's secret treasure. Now it was her turn to be the user. It was a win-win situation. Not a bad deal.

"They had crates of dynamite," she said. "I heard someone say they set fire to a town and robbed a bank at the same time."

Quincy nodded. "The story might be a little exaggerated, but it's true. Dynamite has been a very effective weapon in their arsenal. Sounds to me like they're planning another heist."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I need to know which bank they're aiming to get at."

"Is the bank in this town?"

Quincy shook his head. "No. I know this because they don't make their presence so obvious in a town they want to cause trouble in, like they did yesterday. They like to stay hidden, keeping their prey unsuspecting." He leaned forward in his chair, a gleam in his eyes. "If you can get inside somehow and persuade your friend to cough up the information, then we can stop them."

"And Alternate won't get hurt?"

"Nope."

Fino hated the idea of tricking Alternate. Not only that, but he was an expert at trickery. How would she keep him from finding out? "Maybe, if all goes well, I can get him out of the gang first and then ask him about the bank?"

Quincy looked at her like she was being ridiculous. "And if he refuses to leave? Do you think you'll have a good chance of getting the name of the bank at that point?" When Fino flinched, he added, "Yes, _if all goes well_ , and he repents of his sins, but I wouldn't place my bet on it."

Fino glared at him. "You don't know Alternate like I do."

He shrugged. "Sure, maybe he's an upstanding kid who just got himself mixed up with this gang on accident, but one wrong move will send them scurrying south of the border, where American law has no jurisdiction, and," he eyed Fino, "where I can't help him."

He was right. She hated to admit it. Quincy was her best chance at getting this situation straightened out. She messed up last time, just like she messed up the ambush on Blush. She never used to do this. Everyone thought of her as confident and successful, and she was, except for the last few months. Nothing seemed to go right. If she screwed up again, she might lose Alternate forever, but unlike what happened last time, she would follow the plans to a T.

The words were hard to get out. "Fine, I'll do it."


	8. Chapter 8

Fino was waiting in the hotel lobby when Quincy came sauntering in. He stopped when he saw her. His hands on his hips, he shook his head and sighed.

"It's been three days. I've done what you said. Now can we go?" Fino asked impatiently. She was sitting on dreary gray couch that looked like it had seen better days. The fabric had been worn away and the cushions had gotten so thin that the springs could be felt keenly beneath Fino's butt. It creaked every time she shifted just a little.

She'd been waiting for more than two hours for Quincy to emerge from his hole, but she'd been awake since the first break of dawn. It was almost noon now.

Quincy glanced at the clerk behind her desk, the ever loyal sentinel. Fino could've sworn the old woman hadn't moved for at least ten minutes. She would occasionally clear her throat, smack her lips, or sigh, but she didn't talk to Fino.

"Does she sleep like that?" Quincy asked with curiosity.

"She can hear you, know you." Fino placed her hand on a leather bag that rested beside her. "I'm ready to go when you are, although I thought we'd be gone a long time ago."

She had been anxious for the last three days, biting all her nails off in the process. Quincy had at first suggested they wait three days to let the gang calm down after her visit, and then commanded it when Fino protested. She didn't want to wait that long. What if the gang had run off not long after she'd left? They would be three days ahead of her!

"They're a flighty bunch," Quincy had told her. "They really don't like random visits from strangers. They would've been on high alert after you, but give it a few days and they should let some of their guard down."

Fino conceded, but not without some reluctance. She was tempted to return sooner, the very next day, even, but was able to restrain herself. The only reason she was trusting Quincy was because of his influence to clear Alternate's name, not because she thought he knew what he was doing. She had yet to find that out.

Seeing that Fino was prepared to leave, Quincy shrugged. "I suppose we could get going."

"You _suppose_?" Fino said, her voice rising. "We should be leaving _now._ It was dumb to wait this long to start with. If they were planning a robbery three days ago, they may have already done it!"

An irritated growl issued from the old woman's throat.

In a lower voice, Quincy said, "The deputies have been doing some surveillance. They've watched that canyon for three solid days and haven't seen hide or hair of the gang, which means they're still up there."

"How come you didn't tell me this before?"

"I would've certainly told you if they were leaving."

"But you didn't tell me you were watching them!"

"Did you need to know?"

"Yes! What if they'd seen Alternate?"

"And would you have run out there like a mad woman, grabbed him, kissed him, and told him how much you missed him?"

Fino sputtered in embarrassment. "N-Not like—No! Of course not."

The old woman chuckled lightly. Fino narrowed her eyes at her.

"Not quite?" Quincy echoed, a smile spreading over his face. "So I'm justified in not telling you about the watch."

"I _wouldn't_ have done that," Fino said firmly. She got up and went to stand in front of him. Her dark gaze bored into his without blinking, but his smile never changed. He'd shaved that morning and apparently bathed. The fresh scent of soap wafted down to as he stood over her. His clothes were clean, although his black hat was still coated with a bit of dust. When Fino first met him, Quincy looked like he'd been traveling hard with little rest. His outfit had been dirty and he'd had a good several days' worth of scruff on his face. Now that he was cleaned up, Fino noted with some awkward surprise that he wasn't a bad looking fellow.

"I believe you," Quincy said, making her eyes widen slightly. "Although I'd keep my emotions in check if I were you. They can get you killed."

The offense cut Fino like a knife. "Why, because I'm a _girl_? I have perfect control of my emotions, thank you very much." Somehow that didn't ring entirely true in her own ears, but like heck she was going to let him think she was weak.

"A girl?" Quincy said, his lips parting further in a grin. "By now, among your own people, aren't you considered a woman?"

"It's not any of your business," Fino snapped. She didn't want to say that she was forced to grow up early the day her parents were murdered, but Quincy was indeed correct. Sometimes it was hard to see herself as a woman when she looked at her reflection. Her first menses was followed by an elaborate ceremony that culminated in the declaration that she was now a grown woman, eligible for marriage. But all Fino saw was a scared little girl shivering in a dark corner, still grieving for her stolen childhood.

 _I_ have _grown up, though_ , she decided, keeping her eyes locked on Quincy's. _I'm going to walk straight into that gang and get Alternate back._

"We don't have time to stand here and argue about petty matters," she told him. "Let's go." Turning on her heel, she grabbed up her pack and walked out the door.

A short while later, Quincy left the hotel with bags of his own and his rifle. His horse had been left in the stable next to the hotel, and when he brought the animal out, Fino was impressed by the size of the beast. Its muscles rippled under a gleaming black coat, and it seemed to snort at her with disdain. The bounty hunter swung up into the saddle, and Fino had to admit he looked quite regal. Maybe the outlaws did have something to be afraid of?

Quincy slipped his gun into the rifle scabbard on the saddle and led the way out of town. The two of them said nothing more to each other as they passed under the iron arch. The plan was to approach the outlaw camp again, but Fino would go alone while Quincy hid out of sight.

With her horse trailing behind him, Fino began to formulate what she would say once she faced the outlaws again. She didn't know how they would react. They could chase her away again, or they might be inclined to hear what she had to say, especially considering how bold she would be to approach them a second time. If they chased her away, how many more times would she have to confront them before they finally accepted her?

If Alternate was there now, she wouldn't have to worry about any of that. He would be on her side. She just knew he would be. Then she'd have to get him alone somehow without making the others suspicious. However, Fino was still unsure how she would get the name of the bank without making Alternate suspicious.

As they rode in silence, Fino noticed a stream of dust in the distance, coming toward them on the trail. The rider was coming at them hard. As he came closer, Fino recognized the sheriff. He looked worried and anxious, and stopped his horse when he met them. He pulled off the neckerchief from around his neck to daub at the sweat that was pouring down his face. Dawson took a moment to catch his breath and glanced from Fino to Quincy with a questioning expression.

"Bad news?" Quincy asked, seeming unconcerned.

Dawson took a breath. "They've left."

Fino lurched forward in her saddle. "They've _what?!_ "

"They left not too long ago, heading southwest. They're on the move."

"How many? All of them?"

Dawson nodded. "Pretty sure it was all of them. Carrying a load in a wagon, too."

Quincy vented a curse and spurred his horse ahead, but before Fino could follow, the sheriff jerked his horse to block her.

The bounty hunter was well out of earshot when Dawson said, "You're with him now?"

Fino clenched her jaw and glared back at him. "Yes."

"I should warn you, I know Quincy. Although he's trustworthy, he's also an opportunist."

"So you're saying he's a backstabber? That's nothing new to me."

"That's not quite what I mean. He's been known to manipulate situations to suit his interests."

"So he's a backstabber," Fino said as she rode around him. As far as she knew, that didn't make someone trustworthy. Whatever the sheriff meant, she didn't know, but she didn't have time to ponder.

Quincy was already far ahead of her. He veered off the trail and into the sagebrush, heading for the canyon. Fino followed.

She expected the hunter to blaze up the canyon, but he stopped suddenly and dismounted. When she arrived beside him, he was crouched on the ground, looking at tracks.

"Southwest," Quincy murmured to himself. He looked up at her. "I'm guessing you want to say you told me so?"

As much as she did want to blame him, Fino remembered what happened the last time she accused her partner. "We'd better hurry before they get too far."

Quincy squinted at the canyon. "I'd like to take a look around their camp first."

"But if we wait—"

"We canwait."

"But _why_?"

"I have my reasons."

Fino paused and tried to quell the anger that bubbled up in her breast. "Then they'd better be good reasons."

They rode up the canyon slowly with Quincy in the lead. He'd taken out his rifle and held it in the crook of his arm, but he also had a pistol in a holster at his hip, ready for action. If Dawson was mistaken and the entire gang hadn't left yet, they'd be in trouble, but Fino believed Quincy wouldn't be taking this risk if he felt the gang wasn't gone.

When they were getting close, Quincy stopped and let Fino come up beside him. "You go in first," he whispered.

"Why, do you think they're still there? Don't you think it was bad idea for you to come up here in the first place?" Fino rolled her eyes and dismounted.

With the Zodiac in her hand, she walked into the encampment. In the quiet stillness, she knew no one except Quincy and herself were present, but one could never be too cautious.

The camp was empty. For a band of outlaws, they cleaned up well after themselves, because only a few pieces of trash were left behind. More importantly, however, the boxes of dynamite were missing. The sheriff was right. The gang headed out for the last time.

 _Which means Alternate is gone again,_ Fino thought as she scanned the tracks on the broken ground, hoping to find any small sign of him, no matter how tiny. _Does he even know I came here the other day?_ Maybe he did and chose not to do anything about it. She was determined to find him anyway, whether he wanted to see her again or not.

After telling Quincy the way was clear, the bounty hunter walked in and went straight for the cave. Fino accompanied him, and was surprised to find it wasn't as large as she'd expected. It may hav been able to hold about ten people, meaning everyone else would've had to sleep outside. It wasn't very deep, either, tapering off at the back to where one would have to crouch. Evidence of occupation was apparent on the low ceiling where smoke from multiple campfires had blackened the granite. Fino imagined this place may have been used by Indians for centuries, possibly longer. On one wall was a faded red spiral painted by some long-ago dreamer on a spiritual journey.

The floor was covered with ages of grit, with larger stones intermingled with the gravel, probably fallen from the ceiling over time. There were charred remains of an old campfire situated closer to the mouth of the cave. Quincy hunkered near it with his hand combing through the debris next to the pit's stone circle.

"How long ago, do you think?" Fino asked, watching as the hunter stood with a handful of dirt. He began picking out twigs and pebbles.

"For the fire, about an hour ago," he mumbled. He found what he was looking for and pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, letting the rest of the dirt drop. "They left sometime after that, though."

Taking whatever was in his hand, Quincy shook it in his palm. It made a jingling sound, and immediately Fino knew what it was.

"I heard those bells on the man I met the last time I was here!" she said. "He said he was second-in-command to their leader."

"Holloway," replied Quincy, still staring at the bell. "But this belonged to Shade." He clutched the bell in his hand so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Fino watched him warily. She knew bitter rage when she saw it. "Is he the one you mentioned you were after?"

Quincy nodded. "His bounty isn't as high as Holloway's, but for me his blood is worth more than all the bounties I've ever been paid. He's the end of my long journey." With that, he turned and walked out of the cave.

When they returned to their horses, Fino asked, "Is that all? Why did we even come here?"

"I wanted to make sure Shade was still among them," Quincy said as he climbed back into the saddle.

"And if you hadn't found any evidence?"

She received no answer. Instead, Quincy took the lead once again and began to make his way back down the canyon.

Fino followed close behind, and considered her words carefully before she spoke. "This isn't about getting bounties on a bunch of outlaws, is it?" She tried to remain polite, but wanted to imply that she desired the truth. "You're looking for this Shade person. Had he not been among them, would you have broken off your deal with me?"

Quincy halted his horse, turning in the saddle to regard her with wonder. "Are you always this… _frank_?"

"No, I just like being honest."

"Sometimes too much honesty can get you in trouble."

"Then I'm ready for it."

Quincy blinked.

"I also appreciate it when others are honest with me," Fino added.

The hunter put a hand on his hip as he stared at her. "If that's what you want, then yes, I would've considered this mission futile and let you go on your own."

For a bounty hunter to give up an opportunity to collect several bounties just because one man wasn't there… _Whatever that man did to you must've been pretty bad,_ Fino thought. Then again, she might've done the same thing if her main target had been Blush. Could she blame Quincy?

"I _do_ care about getting the bounties, however," he said as he lightly spurred his horse. "My lifestyle doesn't sustain itself otherwise."

Fino eyed him. He seemed to wear nice clothes, or at least clean ones, although she couldn't tell if they were cheap or not. His rifle certainly wasn't cheap. It must've been the "Lead Messenger" Shade had mentioned.

She wanted to ask him more about it, but decided against it, and so they wound their way down the trail without further discussion.


	9. Chapter 9

"They shouldn't be too far ahead," Fino said to Quincy as they rode out from the canyon. "We should be able to catch up." But she was beginning to wonder about that. She kicked herself for letting Quincy burn up time just to find evidence of one person. The only person who should matter in this case was Alternate, and yet he seemed to be the least of Quincy's concerns.

"That's assuming we don't lose them first," Quincy replied. They were moving quickly through the sagebrush, following the path of rough earth left behind by the outlaws.

Fino detected something in Quincy's words. "You believe we might lose them?"

"They're tricky," he said. He slowed his horse somewhat to let her come up beside him. "They've been known to split up and confuse any pursuers. The trails can go on for days, maybe longer, until they finally regroup. Few have the patience to keep up the chase. I'm one of those people."

"I understand," Fino said softly. Quincy wanted Shade that badly, just like she wanted Blush. She'd be willing to wait for days on end just to get a clear shot. Maybe she and Quincy had something in common here, a connection she could use.

They'd already wasted a few hours of precious daylight, which also meant the gang was a few hours ahead in the chase. But the pair was trying to stay undetected, so being a bit far back would probably work to their advantage. Fino reasoned that the gang would have to stop at some point before dark, and wouldn't likely continue through the night. Where were they headed? To the town with the bank they planned on robbing?

As the day waned, the warm air yielded to the chill of oncoming twilight, and Fino felt the gooseflesh rising on her arms and legs. Riding made the air feel colder, and she hoped they might stop soon, but they needed to be sure the gang had also stopped.

The sun slipped behind the horizon, and Fino watched Quincy in front of her. If it were her, she would've stopped by now, but she underestimated his drive. How would he see the tracks in the dark? Even as the first stars began to prick the night sky, and the moon's bright face rose, the two riders forged ahead. Fino felt her horse slowing as it began to tire.

"Quincy," she said, "we should stop. We can't keep going like this."

When it didn't seem like he heard her, she was going to say it again, but he slowed and brought his horse to a halt. He stood still for a moment, staring out into the deepening darkness, listening or looking for something.

Fino climbed out of her saddle. She strained her eyes and ears to sense what he was sensing, but couldn't detect anything. She followed his line of sight. They had stopped in a relatively flat area dotted with sagebrush rooted in coarse gravel and sand. Ahead of them was a series of low-lying, rocky hills, strangely out of place in the flatness. Their outlines were beginning to vanish in the dimming light.

That's when she noticed it. A faint glow emanated just barely above the ridges of the hills. There had to be several large fires going to create that, enough for a gang of more than twenty people. Fino felt her heart constrict. The distance was less than half a mile to the glow.

"We'll camp here," said Quincy, swinging down from his seat.

"Isn't it a little close?" Fino asked, still staring at the glow.

He glanced at the hills, paused, and said, "No."

"What if they have watchmen out on those ridges? They might see us if we make a campfire here."

The hunter looked around. "See those large boulders over there? We'll get on the other side and camp there."

She had doubts about that. Those boulders seemed small to her and would provide little concealment for their campfire, but she supposed if they kept it low enough… "Fine."

They guided their horses to the boulders. Fino inspected the rocks and found them to be at least twice her height, not like what she expected earlier. From behind these, they just might be able to remain hidden, even with a campfire.

"Wait," Fino said suddenly. Quincy stopped, his hand reaching for a bag on this horse. "Before we unload everything, I want to see their camp."

Her companion scowled. "Now is not the time to make our move."

"That's not what I mean. I just want to spy on them for a few moments, and see if Alternate is with them. It's only fair after you made me go with you to see if Shade was still with them."

Quincy sighed and looked at their belongings. He knew why she wanted to refrain from completely unpacking. Should they be discovered, they'd have to make a run for it. "Fine. Let's go take a look," he said in resignation.

* * *

They walked on foot toward the hills. With night approaching, Fino was concerned they might have a hard time making it back to the boulders without a lantern, but when she took a look at the moon, she knew it was going to be a bright one, almost full. It should provide enough illumination for them to watch their steps.

Fino felt her nerves humming the closer she got the hills. In the twilight she could see the tall shapes of exposed rocks as they rose from the earth like silent, eternal sentries. Her eyes darted to each shape as she found them, almost expecting one to be a human watchman that would call out to his comrades. Their shapes were lumpy and peculiar, like stacked pillows, catching the ghostly light of the moon as the orb climbed the sky.

As the pair moved along, they scanned their surroundings for watchmen and found none, at least not yet. They were fortunate this night. A shout from the camp echoed toward them and nearly made Fino jump. Once she heard Quincy sigh. He thought this trip was reckless, she knew. They could easily be caught, and all because Fino wanted to catch a glimpse of Alternate, _if_ he was there.

They found a rough path around the rocks that would lead them near the camp. The path inclined upward, and Fino had to be careful where she placed her feet and not scrape on the gravel and make noise. Quincy seemed to have the same idea because he made hardly a sound, walking slower than before and stepping lightly.

The path led the pair closer to the glow of the camp, and Fino's hands grew sweaty inside her riding gauntlets. She made a mental note of the Zodiac Gun in her sash, loaded and ready. Several more minutes brought them to two enormous pillow-rocks with a small opening between them. The rocks acted like a wall that ended the path, but the opening was large enough for one person to peer through, so Quincy had to stand behind Fino to see over her head. It felt awkward having him stand so close, almost touching her, but it was worth it, because they had a clear view of the camp below them.

The men were sitting around four campfires, eating and laughing and sharing drinks. Their horses stood nearby in a cluster, resting, with one man going around checking their hooves. Tents were set up near the fires, two with the glow of lanterns inside and shadows moving about, men settling down for bed. At the center of the camp was a spring of water, looking like a black pool in the night.

Fino felt a nudge as Quincy offered her a spyglass. She took it gratefully. Again she was reminded of Alternate, and a bright hope filled her. Scanning each man slowly, she began to make a count. "About sixteen outside," she said, "but I don't know how many men are in each tent."

"They might fit two men per tent," said Quincy. "Some may already be asleep. I'm counting eleven tents, which might mean—"

"There are only twenty-two people in this camp. Weren't there supposed to be more?"

"But I could be wrong," Quincy admitted. "I haven't exactly studied their camping habits."

Which could mean her counting was pointless. "I don't see Alternate, either."

"He could be in one of the tents."

"I know that. But I have no way of knowing for certain unless I—"

"Don't even think about it."

"I wasn't!" She scanned the men again. "I don't see this Shade person, either."

Taking the spyglass back, Quincy made his own assessment. "You're right, and I don't see Holloway, either. If he was gone the last time you saw the gang, he may still be. He's likely out on reconnaissance."

"On what?"

"It means he's out looking for something, trying to get information. I wouldn't be surprised if he was already scoping out the bank he plans on taking."

Fino watched the jovial men as they unwound for the night. Alternate could be with Holloway if he wasn't here. She swallowed. "Could we wait a while longer to see if they show up?"

Her partner was quiet as he considered it. "I'm amazed they don't have people out on watch," he said. The notion was alarming. They weren't counting the full force of the gang here, so could it mean…? "I don't think it's a good idea. If they don't have watchmen out right now, they will soon, and we're right where they should be."

Without waiting for Fino's reply, he stepped back, leaving a cold spot behind her.

Fino took one last look at the camp, her heart feeling like it was about to break. Alternate had eluded her again. She was becoming increasingly impatient. For half a second she wanted to be angry with him, as if he'd been purposely avoiding her, but she knew how silly that was. He probably had no idea she was looking for him. When she's at last reunited with him, would he be happy to see her?

Reluctantly, Fino followed Quincy.

* * *

Little was said between them as they set up camp. They opted to sleep under the stars without a tent, preferring to keep their surroundings visible without the obstruction of tent walls.

Fino was busy getting the fire going when Quincy laid out his bedroll. She noted the simplicity of his belongings, never seeing anything particularly costly in appearance. She knew little about the lifestyles of bounty hunters, and what they were paid for their services. Dawson hadn't said much about Quincy, other than the hunter was well known in the area. Funny how _she'd_ never heard of him.

"How long have you been a bounty hunter?" Fino asked as she stoked the fire. She wanted to get her mind off Alternate.

"Nearly ten years," Quincy replied. He reached for one his saddle bags on the ground and pulled out a can of beans and a pan.

"What did you do before that?"

He gave her a look, as if wondering why she was asking.

"Surely you haven't been a bounty hunter your whole life," Fino added.

"No," he conceded. "No, I, uh…worked as a stable boy when I was younger, and then as I got older I got a job as a general store clerk." He gave her an amused smile. "Respectable work."

Fino had to agree. "Then what led you to…?"

Quincy looked away.

He wasn't going to answer, Fino realized, and rightly so. It was probably too personal. She could respect that. To change the subject, she said, "You know, the first time I met that man named Shade, he thought I was working with you."

The hunter gave her a sharp look, and then went to work opening the can with a lever-type can opener. "And what did you tell him?"

"I said I wasn't, and that I'd never heard of you."

He chuckled.

"I wasn't lying," Fino asserted. "I meant it. He called you the Preacher's Kid and I had no idea he was talking about you. I only figured it could be you because Dawson said you'd been after them for a while and Shade said the same thing." She watched him as he fumbled with the can. "They believed me."

"That's good." Quincy kept his focus on the can. The lid was halfway open at this point. "But they might be upset should they find out you _are_ associated with me. All the more reason for us to be cautious."

"I understand." Fino could tell he was struggling with his task. It seemed strange to her considering he must have spent enough time living outdoors to know how to open a simple can. He was distracted. "Would you please give me that can? You're driving me crazy!"

She expected him to protest, but instead he lowered his head with a sheepish smile and handed her the can along with the opener. In short time she pried the lid off and gave the can back. "I've done this plenty of times with Alternate," she mumbled. With that thought, she realized how much she still missed him. Her heart ached with the knowledge that he might be just over those hills. So close, yet so far.

Fino turned to grab her bedroll. "Why do they call you the Preacher's Kid anyway? Was your father a preacher?"

When she received another pause in response, she thought she'd once again hit a sore spot with Quincy, but he said, "No. My mother was a preacher."

His words were soft, almost a whisper. Fino understood the implications. "Really? I thought only men could be preachers in your religion?"

"Well, see…" Quincy stopped and took a moment to pour the beans into the pan. It was taking forever just to prepare a basic meal. "I'm not quite typical."

Fino's brows rose. Suddenly this man before her was different from the one she'd met just a week ago. He's gone from cocky and confident to awkward and reserved. Who was the real Quincy? "You mean you're not typical for others of your religion?"

"Ehhh, we're a small group," he said. He glanced behind him at a pile of sticks they'd collected earlier. They were going about this all wrong. First they needed to create the tripod above the fire to boil water in the pan and add the beans…

"Is it new?" Fino asked, implying the religion.

"No, it's been around for a long time." He took three sturdy sticks. "We're Quakers."

"Never heard of them."

"Not surprising. People think we're strange because some of our ideas are…different. Like women are allowed to lead congregations and that they are equal to men. My mother was outspoken on a lot of things. Some people didn't like it."

"I see." Fino wondered if perhaps something happened to Quincy's mother, but she wasn't about to ask. Then another thought came to her. "Wait, doesn't your religion teach it's wrong to kill?"

For a brief moment, Quincy's eyes went wide. He chuckled. "Yes, it does."

"Then why are you a bounty hunter? Don't you have to kill people?"

Quincy still had the can opener in his hand when he pointed it at her. "You ask a lot of questions."

"S-sorry," she replied, embarrassed.

"But, since you are so eager to ask," Quincy continued, "I don't always kill people. My preferred method is to maim. Criminals can be more valuable alive in some cases. Others of my faith would still frown upon my ways no matter what, but this is the life I chose."

Fino nodded. This pleased her to hear, even though in the past she wouldn't have batted an eye at taking the life of an enemy. But then again, these people Quincy went after were not enemies. They were his payday, even if they deserved death and were likely executed later. Maybe Quincy took the bigger risk and chose to keep his prey alive so he didn't have to take a life. She found this honorable, even compassionate, despite the fact that these were uncompassionate criminals.

She chose not to delve further into the topic, letting Quincy have his privacy. He finally went about setting up the tripod to cook the beans. Later they ate together in silence, and when they were done, Fino offered to clean their plates and utensils.

As they were beginning to bed down and let the fire die, Quincy broke the quiet. "This kid you're looking for—"

"His name is Alternate."

"That's right, Alternate. You say he's your friend?"

"Yes."

"You've known him a while?"

She let a few moments pass as she thought. "Not very long. Maybe…five months? Why?"

"Just wondering."

"No, really, why?" It worried her that he wanted to know. "Are you suggesting I don't know him well?"

"You two must've forged a pretty strong bond."

A log popped in the fire, sending sparks up to flare and die. As the light faded, it was getting difficult for Fino to read Quincy's face. He was lying on his back, looking at the sky.

She hesitated before answering _. A strong bond_ , _huh?_ Their bond wasn't so strong that Alternate had bothered to contact her again. She watched the embers in the logs as they pulsed red and yellow. Small sparks erupted again from some surviving wood, reminding her of the tiny points of anger in her heart as she remembered Alternate's broken promise to her.

"Maybe," she admitted. "When I first met him, I didn't like him at all. I thought he was a liar and a thief, and he was. But he saved my life, twice. That and we have something in common—a goal, you could say. After a while, he proved he'd changed and he never went back. That's why I'm…" Fino choked on the words, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. Images of her and Alternate's partnership flashed through her mind, showing how far he'd come. _Don't cry_ , she told herself. _Not in front of this man_. "That's why I don't understand why he did this, joining an outlaw gang that wants to rob a bank. It doesn't make sense."

Quincy paused, and said, "I was just curious, that's all. I suppose I can't relate exactly."

"Relate to what? Me wanting to save my friend?"

"Feeling so strongly for someone I barely know to chase them for miles, just to have them back again."

There was no sarcasm in his statement, although Fino thought he sounded a bit lonely. A bounty hunter's life must be difficult. Did he not have any friends or family? A lover, even?

Fino rolled over to gaze up at the stars. She didn't agree that she "barely" knew Alternate, but when she really thought about it, five months isn't a long time, and one month was spent apart from him. Although they shared a similar experience of losing their parents to the same person, he didn't often open up to her about his deepest feelings or thoughts, no matter how close she tried to get to him. It was if he hadn't entirely trusted her yet. Again it brought back the idea of belonging and being able to relate to others similar to oneself. Had Fino's friendship not been enough?

"There's a story among my people," she began. "It's one that I keep thinking about, and it makes me feel obligated to help Alternate." She looked at where Quincy lay to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep yet. "The story goes like this: Sparrow and Snake were good friends, even though they were very different from each other. Sparrow would spot mice in the grass for Snake to eat, and Snake would always find good seeds on the ground for Sparrow.

"One day Sparrow went out to look for her friend and couldn't find him anywhere. She was very upset. She asked all the animals she met if they had seen him, but no one had. Finally she came to a stream where Trout was swimming. He said he'd seen Snake pass by, but Snake was with Hawk. This terrified Sparrow, because Hawk was known to eat snakes. But Trout said Snake seemed friendly with Hawk, but Sparrow suspected something was wrong.

"She kept looking. Soon several days passed, and Sparrow was beginning to fear the worst. At last she came to a cave and found Bat hanging from the ceiling. Bat said Hawk and Snake had come into the cave, but hadn't come out in four days. The cave was deep and dark, and there was no knowing what other creatures lived down there. Even Bat didn't go very far. He said terrible spirits would cry out from the darkness from time to time, and that giant monsters lived down there.

"But Sparrow loved Snake like a brother, and she didn't want to lose him. So she sped off into the darkness without concern for her own safety. She wanted to save Snake from Hawk.

"She flew and flew, and the cave seemed to go on forever. She couldn't hardly see. Then she saw a light, and found someone had made a fire. Hawk and Snake were there, but Snake looked to be asleep. Hawk had used witching magic to make him sleep, and he planned on cooking Snake for dinner.

"Hawk didn't see her coming. She flew at him and scratched him with her tiny talons, and pecked at his eyes until he was dead. After that, Snake woke up and found Hawk dead. He realized his mistake.

"So Sparrow and Snake left the cave together, and they were friends for the rest of their lives."

Fino stopped to catch her breath. She never was very good at storytelling, but she hoped she got the details right. "That's how I feel about Alternate. He's as different from me as Snake was from Sparrow, but we're still friends. I'm willing to fly through that dark cave to get him back. In my village, we call this story 'The Long Dark,' because of the deep cave."

She waited for Quincy to say something, but he didn't. Glancing at his form, she could tell he'd finally fallen asleep. Her mouth dropped open. You don't fall asleep during storytelling! It's rude!

Huffing, Fino rose from her bed to stand watch for the night. She wasn't feeling tired anyway.


	10. Chapter 10

Fino's eyes snapped open. Cold desert air nipped at her arms. The blanket she'd had up to her chin had fallen away. Sitting against one of the boulders, she stared at the darkness around her.

Something had awoken her, but she couldn't remember what. The campfire had died, and all around her the world was motionless.

She'd been dreaming of home, of Alternate. Yaghi had been there, playing with his friends down by the river. Fino was busy tanning a hide while Alternate helped cracking open nuts nearby. The women around him had giggled at the man in their presence. He hadn't been allowed to do the work of the other men, and so he had to work with the boys and women. But when Fino looked at him, he seemed content, smiling, even. The warm sunshine had shone down on them both as they met each other's gazes.

In her dream he'd never left, but returned with her after their argument. They'd made up, and everything was fine. They planned on going out again to search for Blush. Their revenge, and their dreams, would be realized.

But she was still in the camp, still chasing after Alternate, and still stuck here with Quincy. And still no closer to getting Alternate back. Fino could've screamed up at the stars for her wretched misfortune.

Wrenching the blanket back up again, Fino checked Quincy. He was there all right, sleeping peacefully with his back to her. Soon she'd get up and kick him awake, and make him stand watch for a while. After all, this whole scheme was his idea.

Fino was hoping the dream would return as she started to drift off again, but a faint noise brought her full awake. Her ears strained to listen. She thought she could hear shouts, but when a gunshot rolled across the desert, she was on her feet with the Zodiac in hand. She'd made sure to have it loaded for an occasion like this.

The sound hadn't stirred Quincy. Fino debated with herself if she should rouse him, but decided against it. Let him sleep. It might be a false alarm.

She crept around the shelter of boulders and saw the glow over the ridges. Were the outlaws still awake? It was the dead of night. Why would they still be up?

It would be easy to assume the outlaws were busy partying, perhaps celebrating the next stage in their plan, but Fino's gut instinct told her something else was going on. The glow on the ridge was too faint for her to make out any watchmen, so she couldn't tell if they were there or not.

Her curiosity intensified. There was another shot, and she gripped her gun. Glancing behind her, Fino contemplated an idea she knew Quincy would not approve of. But he wasn't awake. He didn't have to know.

 _Maybe if I just get a little closer to the hills, I could hear what's going on_. She wouldn't be going into the camp. As long as she stayed a safe distance, she could go undetected.

The moon was bright enough that she could maneuver over the ground without tripping and hurting herself, and she could find her way back. The stones around their camp had a frosted appearance in the moonlight and would be easy to spot, but it was dark enough that she could remain unseen to any watchmen on the hills.

Fino set out with the Zodiac Gun, ready for action. She was sure to bring with her a small pouch of dried scorpions for backup ammo. It hung around her neck within easy reach.

She would move for a distance, and then stop to look and listen. She struggled to make out any shapes in the rocky landscape, but it was difficult to distinguish a human form from a rock or tall bush. The watchmen could be standing, crouching, or sitting. Any dark, amorphous shape up there could be one of them.

Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but she wished for the eyes of Coyote. The moon may have been bright but it wasn't sufficient enough to keep her from stubbing a toe on a large stone or snagging her clothes on a gnarly bush. She couldn't carry a light with her. It'd give her away.

Fino had begun to take the first steps up the trail when she stopped. The commotion was heard better here, but not to her satisfaction. The noise would rise and fall, and the glow in the sky seemed to get brighter, like the campfires were being stoked back to life.

 _Something's definitely going on._ Fino bit her lower lip. From here, she still couldn't make out any sentries or any movement at all. Aside from the fuss on the other side of those hills, all was still and quiet in the pale, moonlit desert.

Sighing, Fino made a move she didn't plan on. She continued up the path into the hills. Like before, she would walk a distance and stop to listen, but each time she never saw a single person. There were no sentries. Although this was a relief, Fino couldn't help but feel nervous. _Why_ were there no sentries? If there'd been watchmen posted, what could be such a big deal that they would be called away?

Her senses sharpened in the darkness, listening to every pebble that rolled out from under her foot and each scrubby twig that brushed against her clothes. She scanned each shadowed crevice and never let the pillow-rocks go unnoticed. As she came close to the place she and Quincy had been earlier, she stopped again to inspect her surroundings. When Fino was certain she was alone, she peered through the space between the stones.

The fires in the camp had been stoked again as she had guessed. Men were running to and fro and appeared to be cleaning up the campsite. Another man was busy cooking something over one of the fires. The scent drifted up toward Fino and made her want to gag. There was meat in that food.

There was a man on a horse with five others gathered around him. He was speaking to them and making quick gestures. The men on the ground nodded in agreement to something, and then scattered.

The source of the gunshots became obvious when an outlaw came staggering around with a bottle of what was likely alcohol. He had a grin on his face, and as he passed his comrades he would pat them on the back or place a hand on their shoulders. He then took a seat near one of the fires, set the bottle down, and pulled out his revolver. Laughing, he took aim at the sky and pulled the trigger. The sound made Fino jump, and she heard someone reprimand him for being careless. He only laughed again.

The camp that had been in such a flurry suddenly paused and everyone rushed toward the man on horseback. They lined up in a neat row and stood there stiffly as if awaiting a command, even the drunk man. The reason was soon apparent when four riders came thundering in.

Fino recognized Shade at the head on a white horse, wearing his usual white clothes, although they had an orange tint to them in the light of the campfires. She couldn't hear the bells on his clothes at this distance.

Behind him came two others she didn't know, an older man and a young woman. Fino almost gasped. _What would a young woman be doing here with a bunch of outlaws?_ Her first thought was a hostage, but when the woman addressed the others like friends, the reason was obvious: A female outlaw.

The last person to come riding in made Fino's world stop. She slapped a hand over her mouth. Her heart fluttered.

It was Alternate.

He came in behind the older man and Shade, but stopped beside the young woman. Fino squinted. The woman had long wavy hair, possibly blonde. It was hard to tell in this light. She wore a reddish skirt, light-colored blouse, and large hat, with boots, but she was turned in such a way to obscure her face. A holstered gun with a belt of bullets was around her waist. The older man beside Shade had short dark hair, and he wore dark pants with a shirt and a neckerchief. None of the colors were easily distinguishable from Fino's vantage point.

But her real focus was Alternate. She inspected every part of him. He looked healthy and still had his monocle. Much to her disappointment, he wasn't wearing the buckskin shirt she'd made him, but had replaced it with a regular shirt. His hair looked a shorter like it had been trimmed recently.

What she found the most disconcerting, however, was his smile. He looked _happy_. Fino could tell when he gave a fake smile, but this one was genuine. She desperately wanted to get closer, but she couldn't without being seen.

 _If I could just find him alone, then maybe…_ It wasn't a good idea for her to be making any moves without Quincy knowing. She didn't want mess up the plan, not again.

But what if this was her only chance? She didn't know when she'd see Alternate next.

It was just like the ambush against Blush. Fino didn't want to wait. She was missing an opportunity, but because she acted on her own last time she ended up not only ruining an opportunity, but having to wait again anyway.

Alternate had dismounted. He held his hand out to the young woman as she was about to climb down from her horse, but she waved him away with a playful grin. They walked toward one of the fires, standing close together.

The way they looked at each other and stood so closely together suggested something to Fino that made her feel sick. There was a crushing weight on her heart. A tiny needle of jealously slid through her soul until she had to look away.

 _No. No. That's not the reason, is it? Is it?!_ Was _this_ why Alternate never came back to see her, never bothered to contact her again? Why he broke his promise?

Was this woman someone important to him?

She finally remembered to breathe, but when she exhaled she muffled a sob. _I was so stupid. Why didn't I realize before that I loved him? Maybe if I hadn't been so busy thinking of myself, and told him, maybe none of this would've happened?_ But she really had no idea how she'd felt about Alternate. The elders in her village had suspected the cause of her supposed illness. She was lovesick.

She turned her head away and rested her cheek against the cool stone, pinching her eyes shut against the threat of tears. It was if she could just melt into the stone, become one with it, and forget the worries of humans. Rocks didn't have to worry about things like love and regrets. But she denied herself the pleasure of running away. Pushing aside the jealousy, Fino looked up again.

The young woman was walking away from Alternate, leaving him to stand alone, but he watched after her. The older man who had come in with the riders went over to speak with him. Alternate's expression turned serious. His monocle gleamed in the firelight.

Fino knew that shadowy countenance. She'd seen it on him many times when he knew there was danger afoot. But something else the older man said must've been different because the grim expression became a sly smirk. This was also a face Fino recognized. It made her skin crawl. It always did. Alternate was up to something, and it was sinister.

She wanted to beat the stones with her fists. She wanted to rush down there with the Zodiac and whisk Alternate away to safety, just like Sparrow did for Snake. She was staring into the mouth of the cave, but she couldn't— _wouldn't_ go in.

 _No. I'm already in the cave. The matter is finding the right time to strike._ Like Sparrow, she needed to keep flying until she found Hawk's fire.

A sound off to her right made her go still and listen. It sounded like a bird, but what would a bird be doing out this time of night? She didn't know of any nighttime birds around here. It wasn't an owl, either.

Slowly, she grasped the Zodiac Gun and tried to see through the darkness. There, something moved with the sound of gravel under shoes. The whistling came again.

Then it was quiet. The outlaws down below were calm, gathered around the older man as he spoke to them. Was he their leader?

The whistling didn't come for a time. It didn't make sense that someone was trying to ambush her. Why make noise like that? They were still out there somewhere, she knew, but were they planning to attack her?

A cheer from the outlaws startled Fino. They gleefully patted each other on the back and grinned. Alternate was among them with the young woman's hand on his shoulder. They were a brotherly group, Fino had to admit. HadAlternate found where he belonged?

She was still considering this when a hand clamped over her mouth, pulling her back. A struggle ensued, and Fino kicked against her assailant. He grunted as she drew a particularly hard blow.

Hot breath beat against her ear. "It's me!"

When she was released, Fino gasped for air, trying to calm her racing heart. "Q-Quincy, what are you doing here?!" she whispered. He was doubled over on the ground with his hand against his groin.

"Your kick is as bad as your bite," he said hoarsely. "And I'd like to know why you didn't wake me."

"I wasn't going to go down there. I just wanted to look."

Quincy chuckled and shook his head. "You weren't going to come this far, either, were you?" In the sliver of light from between the rocks, she could see his glare. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"I didn't want to bother you. I was going to let you sleep."

"How kind of you. But I would prefer you not go near this gang without my approval or at least my _knowing_. What if they'd seen you and taken you captive?"

Fino was certain they wouldn't have been able to do that, not with her Zodiac Gun. "But did you need to grab me like that?"

"You weren't taking my hint with the whistling."

"How was I supposed to know that was you? Didn't you think to call my name?"

When Quincy was able to compose himself again, he looked at her closely. "I've been watching for a while. You seemed upset. Is your friend down there?"

Fino was mildly touched by the concern in his voice, but she felt embarrassed that he saw her agonizing against the rocks. "Yeah, he's down there."

"You don't sound too happy."

She scrambled for an answer. "It's just—I don't think I'll be able to meet with him alone. There are too many people around."

Quincy rubbed his jaw, a gleam in his eyes. "Let's stick around and see if we can _."_ She must've appeared dismayed because Quincy said, "And here I thought you would've been eager to meet your friend again."

"I—I am," she replied, but she didn't sound sincere. In truth, this was a more delicate situation than she had figured. When before she wanted to charge in, now she was reluctant. It wasn't that she was afraid. It was more a concern of ruining everything she hoped to accomplish. She would be walking on thin ice. One wrong move and…

 _Why did I agree to this? Everything seems harder now since I agreed to work with Quincy._ It was for Alternate, of course. It was to save his life, and she was willing to risk her own, and their friendship, to do that. _I really must be in love. I don't think I'd be doing this otherwise._

But she had to put her feelings aside and focus. "What do you suggest we do from here?" she asked Quincy.

He waited and searched her expression, probably looking for any uncertainty. Fino made sure he wouldn't see it. Now was not the time for uncertainties.

"You stay here and watch your friend," he said. "I'm going to try and see if I can find another lookout."

"What if they send out watchmen?"

"Then we'll be _very careful,_ " he said. He then turned away into the darkness.

"W-wait," Fino called, and he stopped to listen. "What am I supposed to do?"

Quincy stared at her a moment. "I'm sure you can figure that one out yourself."

With that, he left Fino alone in the night.


	11. Chapter 11

Fino took her riding gauntlets off to wipe her sweating hands on her dress. The cool air on her damp skin was soothing, and it calmed her for just a moment before the anxiety returned.

She replaced her gloves and peeked around a rock that was nearly twice her height, and couldn't believe how nervous she was. It was almost shameful. Fino had been in many difficult situations and was often praised for her audacious bravery, but now that she looked back on it all, she wondered if she'd just been brazenly foolish and mistaken it for strength.

No. It was proof of her courage. She'd been scared and done it anyway. Facing the Syndicate had been a suicide mission, and she barely escaped that one, but she believed wholeheartedly it'd been the right thing to do.

This wasn't the Syndicate. These were petty outlaws. She tried to take comfort in that, knowing with her gun she had a good chance fending them off should things get ugly.

That should've put her at ease, but it didn't.

Maybe it was because of Alternate. Fino didn't want to mess this up. She wanted to get it right the first time, because it might be more difficult to try a second time. Her heart thudded against her ribs as she watched and waited.

From her previous spot she managed to slink through the darkness to another that afforded a closer view of the camp; however, this caused her to lose sight of Alternate. He'd moved someplace she couldn't see, and she had no idea if he'd gone into a tent to sleep or had been sent out on watch. If she was lucky—and she prayed to any and all gods that they'd make her the luckiest girl in the world—she'd find him on watch. Maybe the powers-that-be would let her borrow some of Mingchao's luck?

Most of the camp had settled down, and as the night wore on, several retired to their tents. Others remained around the dying fires, talking in low voices. Fino observed their expressions and believed the men were feeling confident about whatever plans their leader had told them earlier. The leader wasn't anywhere to be found, or the young woman. Shade was also out of sight. Fino regretted not keeping track of them. Not one tent seemed special among the others, indicating that the leader was either stationed outside the camp, or he slept in a regular tent just like everyone else.

Fino tried to keep her mind off the young woman, but she always found herself contemplating the significance of it all. That woman looked about Alternate's age, and Fino couldn't help but notice that she was also white. In fact, all these men were white. Not that that was a surprise. Most outlaw gangs she had seen were made up of all men, but Fino kept making the comparison with her tribe. Alternate had felt uncomfortable in her village, but could she be reading too much into it?

Pausing from her surveillance, Fino's gaze made a quick sweep of her surroundings. Some of the men had left the camp to head off in different directions, likely to stand watch. She wasn't worried about being seen, because she'd see them before they'd see her. She needed the chance to determine if someone was Alternate.

It'd been nearly an hour since she last saw her friend, and Fino started wondering if it was even worth staying any longer. She'd have to move around more in hopes of seeing him, but that would increase her risk of being caught, and she wanted to minimize that risk.

But her desire to see him again overrode all that. She moved away from the rock and took another path up a slope that led her higher above the camp. This would be a favored spot for a watchman, but she found none. The rocks that stood were too irregular in shape to be human, but she still kept her eyes and ears open as she drew near to them. Someone could easily hide behind one.

The slope crested and then declined leading down into a steep dip she knew would incline again, but before scaling down she stopped suddenly. Even with the light crunch of the earth beneath her moccasins, she heard a loud sneeze that made her take cover behind another rock. The faint light from the camp gave a weak illumination below, but the area was partly concealed in shadow. Fino strained her eyes to see, letting the moonlight accentuate the landscape, but some spaces couldn't be reached and whoever sneezed seemed to be in one of them. There was no way to know whether it was a watchman or Quincy. Her first thought was to go back and try the other direction as there didn't appear to be an easy way to avoid the person below, but she hesitated when a figure stepped out into the moonlight.

Fino's breath caught. Surely she'd been loaned some of that abundant luck from Mingchao, because she couldn't believe her own. Alternate was standing some fifty feet below her, sniffling and wiping his nose with a handkerchief.

Her mouth went dry when she realized she didn't know what to do. Should she call out to him first before going down? Should she wait a little longer to make sure he was alone first?

Alternate blew into his handkerchief with a honk that scared the life out of Fino. She fell back on her butt and sat there in surprise. _Are you kidding me, Alternate?! You're the worst watchman I've ever seen! Don't make so much noise!_

Her nerves were still frayed when she nodded to herself and came to a conclusion.

He stood there a few moments longer before retreating back to the shadows. He didn't speak to anyone, nor did anyone speak to him. He had to be alone. Even so, the biggest challenge was approaching without startling him, and thus waking up the rest of the camp.

Fino squeezed her eyes shut briefly as she left the safety of her hiding place. _Here goes nothing._

She crept quietly down the slope. At about halfway she took refuge behind another upstanding stone. There was no sound below, which made her wonder if he'd heard her. Whether he did or not didn't make a difference, and whether he caught her or not didn't matter, either. It would probably be best if he did catch her first, because their confrontation might be quieter than if she startled him.

Apparently she didn't have _that_ much luck. Still hiding behind the rock, Fino peered around and looked down into the darkness.

Keeping her voice in a barely audible whisper, she called to him. "Alternate? Are you there?" When she didn't receive an answer, she upped the volume slightly. "Alternate, it's me, Fino. Are you there?"

It amazed her that he still hadn't heard. Was he surprised maybe and couldn't speak?

Alternate stepped more into the firelight of the camp. He crossed his arms and stared back into the camp, but it wasn't obvious whether he'd heard or not.

Growing frustrated, she called to him one more time, and when he still didn't react she allowed herself to leave the rock and progress down the hill. He was turned away from her in the waning firelight when she arrived at the bottom.

She took the moment to just stare at him. He'd been so elusive she imagined him a ghost who at any moment would fade away and disappear once he turned around to see her. In the weak lighting, she gave him another look over. Somehow he seemed different to her. Maybe it was his posture because earlier she noted a more confident stride in his step, making him appear taller and stronger. The way he addressed some of his more unruly comrades was assertive. It almost appeared to Fino like Alternate had some authority over them.

Fino wasn't sure how long she'd been standing there, but she couldn't wait any longer. "Alternate."

He stiffened at first, but his arms remained crossed. Fino had anticipated he'd go for his guns, but he didn't. He knew her voice. Turning slowly, his arms fell at his sides in amazement as he gaped at her.

"F…Fino?" he said in a feeble voice. He hesitated, glanced over his shoulder, and then walked toward her. "Is that really you?"

He didn't sound happy, which disappointed Fino, but it put her on alert. She had no reason to distrust Alternate, yet she was too uneasy to put blind trust in anything right now.

"It's me," she whispered. "I've been trying to get your attention, but you couldn't hear me."

Alternate stopped in front of her with a frown. "What are you _doing_ here?" He almost sounded angry.

"That's what _I'd_ like to ask _you_. I've been looking for you for weeks. Why didn't tell me where you were?"

"How did you know where I was?"

 _Here we go again,_ Fino thought. _Questions answering questions._ "I saw you back in that town with these men. I had to follow you. I've been looking everywhere for you, worried sick!"

"You shouldn't be here!" Alternate admonished in a harsh whisper. He took another look over his shoulder. "If they see you…"

"Let them." She felt her heart sinking when she realized he was definitely not happy to see her, but then again she couldn't blame him. It was dangerous for her, but Fino was more worried about him. Was being friendly with an outsider breaking the gang's rules?

"Is anyone else with you?" Alternate asked quickly, searching the darkness behind her. "Is Yaghi with you?"

"No, he's back home. I didn't expect to be gone this long. I got…distracted." She braced herself for the next question. "Alternate, why did you just disappear? When I didn't hear from you again, I thought maybe…" She stopped as she searched for the right words. "I thought maybe you were still mad at me."

"Mad at you?" said Alternate. "You want to have this conversation _now_?"

"Yes!" Fino almost shouted, then took a breath. "I've been looking for weeks. I'm not waiting any longer."

Alternate went quiet then as he stared back at her. She knew he was trying to figure out what to say, and searching his expression she couldn't discern his emotions.

"I didn't want you to get involved," he finally answered. "It's easier for one person to do this than two."

"What do you mean? Alternate, I'd never dream of robbing a bank!"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "How'd you know about the bank?"

Fino straightened. "I, uh—I heard about it from the people in town. I heard someone say that your gang robbed a bank. Alternate, did you do that with these people?"

"No," he said, much to Fino's relief. "But it's none of your business what I do here."

His words stung her. "Of _course_ it's my business! You're my friend and I don't want to see you make a mistake that could cost you your life. Alternate, you're already wanted just for being in this gang!"

"I know that."

"Then why are you doing it? I thought you put this kind of life behind you?"

Alternate looked away from her at the ground, clearly bothered. "It's not what you think."

"Then what should I think? That you joined an outlaw gang to fit in, because you didn't feel like you belonged with my tribe? You're willing to rob innocent people just to find a place to belong?"

He flinched as she said it, and wouldn't meet her eyes. "Fino, you should go home."

She stamped her foot. "I'm not going home after all this time!"

Alternate was at his breaking point. He pinned his gaze on her and a look of utter contempt and annoyance came over him. " _Go home, Fino_! You're not welcome here! If you don't leave now, then I'll wake up the others. I won't try to stop them if they tie you up and do whatever they want with you."

Fino was dumbstruck. Her mouth fell open and she felt a lump forming in her throat.

"It isn't any of your business what I do with my life," Alternate continued. "I thank you and your people for their hospitality, but I've got something I need to do, and it doesn't involve you." He pointed behind her with a hard finger. "Now get out of here before you regret it!"

Her mind racing, Fino tried to think of something to counter him but was coming up blank. She could do as he commanded and leave now, but then everything would be ruined and she'd never get the name of the bank, let alone save him from the gallows. Or she could defy him and allow herself to be captured. But if he was serious about letting the outlaws tie her up and do whatever they wanted, then she could be looking at her own death. Neither possible outcome seemed productive.

She stood there in silence, staring off into space as she considered her options. This annoyed Alternate further and he stepped forward to grab her shoulders, but she took a step back.

"No," she said.

Alternate blinked. "What?"

"I'm not leaving. If I have to die for this, then fine, I'll do it."

She'd disarmed him, judging by the look he was giving her. He was never serious about waking the others or having her captured. It'd been a façade to get her to leave. At least that's what she wanted to believe.

"You're impossible," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Do you not understand how dangerous this is?"

"I know full well how dangerous it is. I knew how dangerous it was when we went up against the Syndicate. I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't think something good could come of it."

"Well, it's not doing much good for you now," a voice said behind her.

When Fino's hand reached for the Zodiac Gun, she felt something hard prod her in the back. She didn't dare turn around, and lifted her hands up in surrender.

"Now, now," said Shade. "I thought we scared you off. Come back for more?"

"More?" Alternate echoed, his eyes going wide. He looked at Fino. "You were here before?"

"Not here," Fino replied, but another nudge from Shade shut her up.

"This here girl was asking about you earlier," Shade admitted, "but we told her you were out. To protect our interests, we made her leave."

"You didn't even tell me?" Alternate asked him, growing furious, but the other man shook his head.

"You know what Holloway's policy is. No strangers. No witness escapes alive. I wasn't about to tell you anything in case you decided to…elope." Shade gave a lewd smile. "That would put a wrench in our plans. We can't have our _master planner_ out running around with girls, now can we?"

"It isn't anything like that!" Alternate shot back. In the dimness, Fino couldn't tell if he was blushing. She knew she was.

"Good," said Shade. "Then you won't mind if I take care of this intruder?" The pressure against Fino's back increased and she pinched her eyes shut in anticipation.

Alternate put out his hands to stop him. "Wait! You don't need to. She won't say anything."

"But what about Holloway's policy?" Shade asked. "Don't you care what he might think should we break the rules?"

Alternate hesitated for a second, but Fino knew he wasn't about to just let her be killed. No matter his reasons for joining this gang, she refused to believe that he'd grown so cold-hearted as to let a friend be murdered.

"Holloway will understand," Alternate said with certainty. "I'll explain it to him. She isn't a threat to us."

Not a threat? Not unless they found out she was working with Quincy! Then what? Would Alternate get in trouble, too? Good gods above, her friend was screwed in both directions if things didn't turn out exactly as planned.

"All right," Shade said grudgingly. "If that's how you see it, then do me a favor and take her gun at least."

Alternate complied and grabbed the Zodiac. When he didn't find her tomahawk, he asked where it was, but Fino shrugged without an answer. She'd left it back at camp, and she didn't want anyone to know she had a camp in case they chose to search for it, finding not just her things but Quincy's as well.

Shade pushed her into the camp where the other outlaws waited, Alternate following close behind.

She'd entered the heart of the cave.


	12. Chapter 12

Feet bound and hands tied behind her back, Fino was rendered completely helpless as she was forced to sit next to one of the campfires. It took a while for Holloway to arrive, but in that span of time all the outlaws gathered around her. It was obvious many of them remembered her. They jeered at her mercilessly, teasing her about lusting after Alternate. She couldn't stop herself from blushing, but she hoped it was taken more as a sign of simple embarrassment from the teasing. She didn't want Alternate to know yet how she felt.

One of them had taken the feather from her headband and passed it around to the others, some running it under their noses to feel it tickle while they laughed, and others put it in their hair to perform a poor and rather offensive mimicry of an Indian. Her moccasins had been removed by a man who decided to try them on. The small shoes fit halfway to his heel, and he proceeded to dance around in circles, pretending to be a "squaw at an Injun dance" as he put it. His friends roared with laughter.

It wasn't so much their mocking that bothered her, but Alternate's passivity. He stood outside their circle, even though he'd been put in charge to watch her. It broke her heart that he wouldn't stand up for her or at least order the men to settle down. Was he not on her side after all?

Fino glimpsed the young woman in the mass of bodies. Unlike the men, she didn't participate in the taunting. Instead she appeared concerned and even disgusted by their behavior. She'd had enough and departed.

The arrival of Holloway was heralded by an abrupt change. The outlaws stopped teasing Fino, and her feather and moccasins were tossed to the ground beside her. They parted to let him through, and Shade came in behind him.

Fino estimated that Holloway was the oldest among the men, but he wasn't what she expected to see. He was tall with graying brown hair, and despite his questionable profession his blue eyes were friendly. He had a square jaw and strong, masculine features, including a Roman nose. He was handsome, and Fino thought something was familiar about him, yet she'd never seen him before.

He crouched before her. "So you're the one Shade told me about," he said, his voice deep and rich.

"Am I the only one who didn't know?" Alternate whined, but one look from Holloway silenced him. Fino noticed the young woman had gone to Alternate's side.

The leader returned his attention to Fino. "Why are you here? Is it only because of Alternate? It would be wise to answer honestly."

 _Screw you and your honesty_ , Fino thought resentfully. Over the years she'd picked up some words from white men, but the words she really wanted to use were much more colorful.

"I've been looking for him for weeks," she replied with calm. "He's my friend. We traveled together for a long time and I wanted to know if he was okay."

"Well, then," Holloway said as he rose, gesturing to Alternate. "As you can see, he's just fine."

Fino struggled against her bonds. "No, he's not fine! He's wanted by the white man's law now!"

"I'm sure Alternate would appreciate it if you didn't talk about him like he wasn't here," Shade said, glancing at the younger man.

Alternate scowled at him. "Speak for yourself, Shade."

His comrade returned with a snide grin.

Holloway spread his arms wide. "Our friend can do as he pleases. If he doesn't wish to be part of our brotherhood anymore, he can leave."

"I think you're lying," said Fino. "If it was that easy, why don't you let _me_ go?"

"Because we've learned to trust Alternate. We don't know you."

"Some trust you have in him when you can't even take his word for it!"

Holloway burst out laughing. The men followed suit along with the tinkling laughter of the young woman. Alternate was straight-faced.

The leader looked at her anew. "You've got guts, and I like that! But please understand, even Alternate has reservations about why you've come here."

"He does?" Fino asked in astonishment. When she looked to him for answers, he only appeared worried. Did he not believe her? He wasn't trying to deny it.

"I'm afraid we can't let you go so easily," Holloway told her, almost sounding regretful. "We'll have to confirm your story first."

"How?"

Without replying, Holloway motioned to Shade. His second-in-command nodded and rounded up a couple of men. A few minutes later they were riding away on horses into the predawn light.

 _Oh, no. No, no, no. They're going to look for my camp._ It made sense that they would believe she'd stationed herself somewhere, or maybe find her horse tethered to something, confirming she was alone. They were more paranoid about Quincy then she'd thought. _They'll find our camp, and think I'm working with someone._ She could only hope Quincy had been watching and had the idea to go back, but could he clean things up in time and make it look like no one had been there? He'd have to be a magician to do that!

Her heart dropped into her stomach. It was over. There was no way they'd let her go, and what about Alternate? Would he be punished, too? But Shade was just as guilty. Fino sensed a man like him would want to save his own skin, and would likely try to talk his way out of giving in to Alternate.

She could say nothing to dissuade them, and so sat there glaring at Holloway. "You're wasting your time," she muttered, but her words fell on deaf ears.

Holloway left the men, telling them to leave Fino alone, and requested Alternate to join him. When the young woman tried to follow, the leader shooed her away. She crossed her arms and pouted.

Luckily for Fino, the men obeyed their leader's command. They left her alone at the fire to sulk. Staring at the flames, she almost hoped to see a vision from the spirits about what to do next, but knew she'd go blind instead. The spirits had abandoned her, and her borrowed luck from Mingchao had run out.

She couldn't reach for her moccasins with her hands behind her. She struggled with her bonds, but quickly gave up. If she tried to get up, she knew the men would believe she was trying to escape. She didn't want to ask for help because she'd either not get any or they'd start taunting her again. At this point she didn't want to draw any more attention to herself. Instead, she began thinking of ways to explain to Holloway about her deal with Quincy and what a mistake it had been. If he could give her some slack long enough for her to get her hands on the Zodiac Gun, then she'd be able to get herself out of this mess.

But could she leave without Alternate? That was the real question.

While Fino was deep in thought, the young woman had approached. She had the moccasins and knelt in front of Fino, taking up one of her bound feet and carefully replacing the shoe. After she did the same with the other foot, the young woman made sure each was tied securely, and then she smiled brightly.

"I haven't seen an Indian in a while. Where are you from?" she asked with intense curiosity.

Fino's brows came down. "What?"

"I mean, what tribe are you from?"

It seemed strange to Fino that this stranger would care to know. No one had ever asked her before. "High Wing band of the Nukmkwam."

"The Red Hand!" the young woman said with delight. "I knew it had to be. I could tell by the designs on your clothes."

"Where did you learn that?"

"My father did some trading with the Red Hand years ago. I had a friend when I was little who was from the tribe." She looked up at the lightening sky. "I wonder whatever happened to her."

 _She probably died in a raid by white men,_ Fino wanted to say.

"My name's Tony," the young woman said. "That's short for Antoinette, but I prefer Tony because it's cute." She giggled, quite pleased with herself. "Nate said your name is Fino. How'd you two meet?"

 _Nate?! She calls him Nate?_ The jealousy swelled once again. _Since when did she become so familiar with him?_ But Fino never used nicknames for anyone because she found them childish. "We met…under very unusual circumstances. It's a long story."

Their conversation was interrupted when one of the men barked at Tony to stop talking to the prisoner. Tony barked back that she could as she pleased, and that it had been wrong in the first place to have Fino tied up. The man immediately closed his mouth and left.

Tony shrugged. "I'd untie you if I could, but only if Holloway says so."

Fino didn't care one way or the other. Why was this person being so friendly anyway? It was more annoying than helpful. "Thanks for putting my moccasins back on," she grumbled, at least giving her that much credit. Then an idea struck her. "Say, it's strange for a girl like you to be in a gang like this."

Tony straightened at the remark, and then chuckled. "Maybe it is, but I'm the best they've got."

"At what?"

"Safecracking. Ain't none of the men here able to crack a safe faster than me! As soon as we get one, we take it and open it later, but if the safe is too big to move, then we have to open it on the spot. That's what I'm for." She thrust a thumb into her chest smugly.

Fino could tell she was proud of her achievements, but it annoyed her that Tony took such pride in a life of crime. "And you've never been caught?"

"Never! I've been at this since I was eleven and the law hasn't been able to lay a hand on me!"

 _I'd like to see how much longer you can last._ "That's a long time, but I thought you said your father was a trader?"

"He was until he died," Tony said sadly, and paused to make the sign of the cross. "I was about seven years old then."

Fino took note of the gesture. White people were _so_ weird. Their religion often did not match their actions. "Then what happened?"

"Holloway took me in. After my father passed away, I didn't have any family left to take care of me. I was in a stagecoach bound for an orphanage in the next city when Holloway decided to rob it. I'd hid in a clothes trunk, but his gang took the trunk and later found me in it. The rest is history."

"So he _trained_ you to open safes?"

"I was apprenticed to the gang's safecracker at the time. I was trained by the best!"

Fino wanted to groan. Tony acted like she had a respectable job just like anyone else.

By now, the young woman had settled herself beside Fino as if they'd known each other for years. "It was around the time I took over as the gang's safecracker that I met Nate."

This got Fino's attention. "You knew Alternate before?"

"Way back in the day, before he had that monocle. Holloway and I were in town after a big haul and we were celebrating in a saloon. That's when I met him at a gambling table." Tony chortled as she remembered. "People kept telling him he was too young to gamble, but when he kept winning and winning at poker, I knew he had to be cheating. People were just too amazed to chase him off.

"But when he played me, I beat him. He still doesn't know how I did it, but I beat him at his own game."

"You cheated, didn't you?" Fino said flatly.

"Whatever do you mean?" Tony gave her an innocent look, and then laughed. "So after that we hit it off, but after about a year in the area we had to leave because the law was on to us. Nate wanted to stay with his dad."

Too afraid to ask if Alternate had joined them in their crimes, Fino refrained. He probably did, and it appeared he'd always been that way. Maybe it was just in his nature to be a criminal? No, she wouldn't believe that, not for a second.

Even while she found Tony's chattering irritating, she kept asking questions. "So how did Alternate find you again?"

"We saw him coming toward us in the wilderness. We knew him right away. He said he'd been looking for us, and we were glad to take him in."

So he'd purposely sought them out? Alternate had known what he was doing. He didn't get "caught up" in anything. He wanted to be here.

"So now he's your 'master planner'?" Fino asked.

"Sure is. Holloway was impressed by his abilities last time."

"Last time?"

"Yes, when we got that bank." She became concerned when Fino drew up her legs and pressed her face against her knees. "Are you okay?"

"He lied to me," Fino muffled against her knees.

"What?"

"He lied to me!" She lifted her head. "He said he hadn't robbed a bank!"

Tony shook her head. "I don't know why he would say that. He planned the whole thing and everything went off without a hitch. That was about three weeks ago."

 _I'm too late_ , Fino realized with horror. _I don't know how Quincy could ever convince a judge to let Alternate go. It's impossible!_

"Um, if it's any consolation, no townspeople were hurt," Tony said with a sheepish smile.

Fino rolled her eyes. "I'm sure the same can't be said about their houses."

"Eh?"

"Did you burn down their town while you were at it?"

Now it was Tony's turn to roll her eyes. "Shade," she mumbled. "He did that, but Holloway liked it because it provided a good distraction."

Fino recalled the incident in Las Vegas when Blush and Alternate set fire to a building so they could break into the sheriff's office and steal the Eto and Zodiac Guns. The fire had been Alternate's idea. It made her sick to think of the implications.

Setting aside Alternate's lie for the moment, she asked "Will you do that with the next bank?"

"Probably."

"And where will it be?"

The young safecracker hesitated and gave her an apologetic look. "We're not supposed to talk about it with outsiders."

 _Damn! I was so close!_ Had she gotten the name of the bank, she could've then focused on escaping the camp. It was best if she didn't press the issue further, though. Otherwise she'd rouse suspicion. "Oh, I get it," was all she said.

"I'm sure Holloway will let you out those soon," Tony said, referring to the ropes. "I bet Nate's explaining everything."

"You think it's that easy?"

"Of course!" the safecracker replied, beaming. "I believe you, and if I believe you, I'm sure Holloway will. He's a reasonable man and doesn't believe in killing people just for the sake of killing people."

_Oh, lucky me._

Much to Fino's relief, Tony excused herself and went to speak with one of the other men. A short while later some materials were brought to construct a small tent for Fino, allowing her the luxury of having a roof over her head and some limited privacy. But what with morning approaching she didn't have a lot of time left to sleep, and even if she _could_ sleep she wouldn't be able to. Her bound arms and legs made it too uncomfortable, but she made do with trying to rest on her side. It wasn't long before her arms went numb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of Fino's band and tribe is entirely fictional and has no relation to any existing tribes. I thought it would be nice that her tribe actually had a name. It is also referencing my favorite authors, the Gears, who write the First North Americans series. The Red Hand was the name of a tribe in their book _People of the Fire_.


	13. Chapter 13

Fino awoke when she felt someone grasping her arms to cut the ropes. Her arms felt like dead weight when the ropes dropped away, and she had to wait for the feeling to return before she could move them again.

She hadn't slept for long, but when she looked up at Alternate a rush of energy filled her. She wanted to jump up and hug him, but remembering his lie from earlier stopped her. Tony stood outside the tent, observing them. Alternate knelt at Fino's side with a knife in his hand. In his belt was the Zodiac Gun.

He noticed her staring at the gun and said, "I can't give it back, not yet. Holloway wants to speak with you first."

Without giving him a single word, Fino rose to follow him. She was still sore from the ropes and limped toward the edge of the camp. Holloway was sitting on a crate and Shade stood next to him. A horse was behind them, and Fino recognized Snow on the Earth. Her heart plummeted, yet there was something in Holloway's genial expression that gave her a sliver of hope.

The outlaw leader looked with pity at her haggard appearance. "They didn't treat you well, and I'm sorry about that. But I'm sure you understand why we had to do it."

Fino said nothing.

"It appears you were telling the truth about being alone," Holloway said. "We found your horse and belongings in what looked like a camp behind some boulders."

Shade looked skeptical, but stayed quiet.

"We didn't find anything to indicate you were lying," the leader continued, "so I'm giving you the privilege of having your weapon returned to you."

She sucked in a breath, drawing another suspicious glare from Shade. Fino corrected herself, but found it difficult to contain her relief. Quincy had moved his belongings out of the camp to make it look like she was alone. He'd been watching the whole time, and knew they would be in trouble if he didn't do something. But he'd done it more for himself than for her. His goals in this operation were what really mattered.

When Alternate handed Fino the Zodiac Gun, she took care to avoid touching his hand. At this moment she didn't know what to think about him, or feel for that matter. When earlier she thought she was in love, now she resented him. She just couldn't get over the fact that he'd lied to her.

Fino tucked the gun into the back of her sash, but it would still be easy to grab at a moment's notice. With the Zodiac back in her possession, she'd regained a more even footing against the outlaws.

"You are free to leave," Holloway said, motioning to the horse, "and I would ask that you not return."

"Before I do that, I'd like to have a word with Alternate," said Fino.

Alternate looked to his boss for permission, and the older man nodded. Shade only scowled at them.

Fino took her horse by the reins and she and Alternate went to find a more secluded place to talk. All the while Alternate seemed worried, probably anticipating the verbal beating he was about to receive. She didn't intend to yell at him, but she did want answers.

The two headed back to the place where they found each other the night before. The outlaws watched them with interest, and a few grinned knowingly.

As soon as they were alone, however, Alternate was the first to speak.

"Fino, you're here for more than just me," he said.

"What makes you think that?" she asked. "You're the reason I came here."

"Is anyone else with you?"

"You heard what that man said. They only found my belongings."

"I know that, but…"

"You doubt me? Go see for yourself."

"You know I can't leave here. I have obligations."

Fino clenched her teeth at another failed attempt. She'd hoped to get him out of the camp. "Alternate, that girl told me you robbed a bank. Why did you lie to me?"

Alternate flinched. "I—I didn't want to upset you. I knew you'd be disappointed in me—"

"And I am. I thought you were better than this. I believed in you." She paused and considered her next words. "I want you to come back with me."

"No!" Alternate answered sharply. "I need to be here. I _want_ to be here."

"You want to live as an outlaw?"

He glanced around, trying to some up with an answer. "You don't understand. I'm trying to do something."

"What, get rich by stealing?"

"No! I thought you'd…"

"And I thought you were my friend." With that, Fino turned to her horse. As it looked like she was about to leave, Alternate reached out to grab her arm.

"I promise it's not what it looks like," he contended. "The reason why I never went back to the village is because I didn't want to get you mixed up in this. I knew you would disapprove and so I had to do this myself." He lowered his eyes. "And I have other reasons…"

There were a number of good questions Fino could've asked, but instead she found herself saying, "Other reasons? Like that Tony girl?"

Color touched Alternate's cheeks as he looked up. "What?"

"You like her, don't you?"

"That's beside the point!"

"I see the way you look at each other. It's obvious. You're in this gang because you two are—" Fino couldn't finish the words. Her heart felt like it was going to implode.

"It's more complicated than that," Alternate insisted, but the color hadn't faded from his face. "I'm sorry I can't tell you anything more."

Fino pulled away from his hold. "You don't trust me, and that's all the information I need. I came here to save your life, Alternate. If you're caught, you'll hang. It'd kill me to see that happen to you." She tried to withhold the oncoming blush, but it was futile. "I care about you. A lot."

"I know you do," Alternate replied, "but please understand that I have to do this alone."

Alone. It reminded her of the day he'd said he didn't want to work as a team anymore. Apparently that's still how he felt.

"Sure, I understand," she said. The words tasted bitter in her mouth. She turned back to her horse. "By the way, where's the nearest town? I need supplies."

Alternate was surprised by the casual question. "Um, Murdoch. It's about twenty miles south of here." He looked about say something else, but didn't get the chance as Fino left without thanks or a goodbye.

* * *

She wiped away the tears that had welled up and spilled over her cheeks. Fino didn't often cry, but when she did it was usually because the pain was unbearable.

Alternate was completely oblivious. He took no notice of her near-confession of love and probably mistook it for friendship. Maybe he simply didn't feel the same way, and maybe Fino had been on the mark about his affection for Tony. His reaction to the accusation was telling. Fino never had a chance.

The camp was as Holloway had said. Only her belongings were left. Not a shred of evidence suggested Quincy had been there. It didn't matter to her anyway. She wanted to be alone for a time.

Fino set about repacking everything back onto her horse. As she did this she considered the numerous footprints of humans and horses. When Shade and his men arrived last night, did they happen to notice more than one set of footprints? If they had, why didn't they report it to Holloway? Or did they report it and Holloway chose to release Fino anyway? It was an unsettling question. She doubted the outlaw leader was so generous. Either he was genuinely kind or a very good actor.

Her concern now was finding Quincy. He wouldn't be pleased that she didn't get the name of the bank, but Fino believed she got the next best thing: The name of the town. She would ask Quincy if perhaps this nearest settlement might be the gang's target. She had a strong feeling it would be. If it was the "nearest town" as Alternate said, it would make sense. But after asking Tony about the next robbery, Fino realized it was too dangerous to try and pry direct information out of anyone.

Moving quickly, she mounted her steed and headed for Murdoch. If Quincy was out there somewhere, he'd find her. She knew he would.


	14. Chapter 14

The trip to Murdoch seemed further than the twenty miles claimed. Fino was beginning to wonder if she'd somehow gone off course and ended up lost. She stopped her horse and shaded her eyes as she tried to see into the distance. The sun was blistering hot. Shimmering waves of heat distorted the horizon. The peak of summer was upon the land, and Fino could feel its force radiating off the rocky ground beneath her. Being pressed against a hot horse didn't help, either. It was almost hard to breathe. Her headband was damp from perspiration.

It was during these summer days that Fino was reminded of the great gathering of tribes that was coming up soon. She began to wonder if she'd ever make it back in time. In her daydreams, Alternate watched in awe as she proudly danced to the drum that was the heartbeat of the earth. Her beaded dress glittered in the sunlight, shawl whirling around her in a kaleidoscope of colors. The soft white feathers in her hair bounced in rhythm. Often courtships would begin during the gathering, and it was common for marriages to be negotiated and arranged. Fino's family had wanted to wait a few more years before seriously considering matrimony for her. She was still young, but a few of her more prominent family members—her grandfather in particular—had suggested that she at least start looking at some of the young men for potential candidates. As granddaughter to the village chief, it was important she be paired with a suitable mate with some status. Fino's reputation as a warrior also made her desirable by some of the warrior men. It was possible she would eventually rise to the position of the village war chief. Some found her intimidating, but already a few older men had tried to pursue her. She'd refused them all.

No one ever mentioned Alternate. At the time, neither did she. He was outside her range of selection. Fino was still mad at herself for not realizing how she felt before. How could she have been so blind? But there was no use sulking over it. It wasn't going to change anything. The best she could do now was to try and save her friend before it was too late. Maybe then he'd realize her feelings for him, and then reciprocate.

 _Not if that Tony girl gets in the way_ , Fino thought, grimacing at the land ahead of her. Jealousy was such an ugly thing, but it was useless to deny it. _I'm sure if it wasn't for her, he'd have listened to me. I bet she convinced him to stay._ Fino then shook the angry thoughts from her head. She had to stay positive. There was still hope this mess could be sorted out.

Snow on the Earth was getting tired, and still there was no town in sight. Fino checked the sun and her surroundings and was certain she was heading due south. She was in a basin surrounded by mountains, their craggy faces parched in the heat. Sparse vegetation spread out over the valley floor. It was a wonder they survived with so little water. As Fino's horse plodded along, dust swirled up from the moisture-deprived earth. The monochromatic landscape was broken by a pale blue sky that was untouched by a single cloud.

At last, Fino spotted what she hoped was a lone tree in the distance. "Good. Maybe there's a spring," she murmured, patting Snow's neck. It was difficult to make out the tree in the heat waves, and as she got closer she thought she saw another smaller tree next to it.

"No, it's that kid again!" she said, shading her eyes again to see. Sticky waited in the shade the tree provided beneath its twisted but leafy branches. When Fino arrived she was delighted to see a large spring of water lined with green shrubbery.

She saw to her horse first before filling her own water skin, and then addressed the boy. He watched her with interest.

"You're out here again all by yourself?" Fino asked as she eyed him. She noted his lack of provisions with some worry. "Where's Quincy?"

Sticky pointed south, beyond the spring.

"Did he send you to find me?"

He nodded.

"He knew I was coming this way?"

The boy nodded again.

"If he knew, why didn't he come get me?" Fino said it more to herself than to Sticky, but when she thought about it, she understood. She glanced around the vast countryside. The bounty hunter probably thought she might be followed by a spy from the gang. Quincy was backing off to give the appearance of Fino being alone.

"Is there a town nearby? Someone told me a town called Murdoch was supposed to be this way," she said.

Sticky confirmed by pointing south again. When Fino looked, she still didn't see any sign of white civilization, but around the spring she saw numerous prints from people and animals. This spring was well used.

She didn't ask anything more of Sticky. Yes or no questions would only get her so far, and she doubted the boy knew much anyway.

He continued to observe her from beneath the tree. Fino marveled that he was out here in the first place. Had he traveled alone? Where was his mount? It was like last time when she met him outside the canyon.

 _I'm going to give Quincy a good talking to when I find him,_ she decided. _He should not be sending children out alone like this without water or a steed, or even a weapon for protection._

When she saw Quincy again, he wasn't going to be pleased that she didn't get the name of the bank. But it wasn't like she could go back. Holloway had explicitly told her not to return. By now the gang was probably on the move. Were they heading for the bank at this very moment?

Fino stared at her horse as it nibbled on the grasses lining the spring. She felt Sticky's eyes on her. He was waiting for her to finish up so they could leave, but Fino was reconsidering. She felt like a failure for leaving the outlaws with only a hunch. The bounty hunter would scold her for it, but what more could Fino do? If she tried to go back, it'd be certain death. But she was more worried about what would happen to Alternate.

 _I have to go back,_ she realized with dread. _I can't tell Quincy about a simple hunch. I have to go back and get the name of the bank._ But how? She couldn't just waltz back into the camp and ask. She couldn't go back in the camp, period.

 _But I can. They don't have to know._ Fino gripped the reins of her horse. She knew what she had to do now.

She turned to Sticky. "Go back and tell Quincy I'm not done yet. It might take me a while, but tell him I'm going to get the name of that bank." Of course, that would suggest to him that she hadn't gotten it yet, but she still had time to redeem herself.

The boy was surprised. He pointed toward Murdoch in earnest, but Fino shook her head. "I'm not going back until I get the name. That was the deal I made with Quincy. I won't go back on my word." Taking in his appearance again, Fino then thrust her water skin toward him. "I want you to take this. I'd give you my horse, too, but I need that. Make sure you tell Quincy I said not to send you out again without proper provisions. And I mean it."

Sticky put up his hands to refuse the water skin, but Fino put it in his arms and forced him to take it. "I have another one," she explained. "It's in my saddle bags." The boy gave her a skeptical look, and then conceded. He darted off into the desert with the water skin. Fino noticed his worn shoes that flopped on his feet like they were too big. She made a mental note to make him a good pair of moccasins later.

She swung up into the saddle and headed back the way she came at a fast clip. It would evening by the time she reached the outlaw camp, but that was assuming they were still there. If they weren't, she'd have to track them, but she doubted she could track them in total darkness. The basin was wide and mostly flat, so there weren't many places for them to hide unless they headed up into the surrounding mountains.

She bounded through the desert, even with the heat beating down. Snow was reenergized after grazing at the spring, giving him more speed as he tore up the dry earth under him. Fino goaded him onward.

By the time she was getting close, the sun was halfway below the horizon. She halted her horse at the rocks where she and Quincy had stayed before to wait out the rest of the evening. Fino waited anxiously behind the stones, biding her time until the sky had been dyed a deep purple. Her hopes were confirmed when another rider came rushing from the southwest toward the outlaw camp. She watched carefully from the secluded shelter of the stones. He was too far away for her to make out whether he was one of the outlaws or not.

When the sky faded to black, Fino could see the familiar glow from the outlaw camp. Even though she was relieved, she wondered why they hadn't moved since her visit. Had Alternate convinced them she really wasn't a threat? _If they ever find out what I'm doing, they'll blame him. Who knows what they'll do to him?_

Fino took care to ground-hitch Snow. She made sure the pouch of dried scorpions was secure and walked out into the desert with the Zodiac Gun in her sash. Unlike the previous nights the glow from the camp wasn't accompanied by jovial celebration. All was quiet, putting Fino on edge.

Using only moonlight to guide her, she decided to avoid the path from before and choose a different route. She moved southwest from where the rider had come from and found a path between the hills. This was likely where the rider disappeared, and Fino took it. Without the background noise of the camp, her crunching footsteps sounded unbearably loud. It wasn't that late at night, so why would the camp be so quiet?

It wasn't long before Fino had to stop and take cover. As she had rounded a corner, a light had shown in her path. Thinking she'd accidentally stumbled into the camp without realizing it, Fino backed up and hid behind a pillow-rock. When the light didn't move, she peered around to see. To her surprise, a large tent was pitched on a sort of natural platform that overlooked the camp. She thought it was strange since she never noticed it before in her last visit. It size implied someone of importance resided within, and Fino had a pretty good idea of who that might be. Shadows were thrown against the canvas walls. Someone was home.

Soft voices could be heard coming from the tent, and Fino crept toward it. She remained near the shadows cast by the moonlight, believing watchmen may be about. She was confident they wouldn't see her, but her racing heart sent a warning.

Closer to the tent, she could make out their words, and one particular voice she recognized. The deep, rich voice of Holloway was obvious, but Alternate's sounded nervous as he rattled on about the "next stage." Holloway reassured him, and then Shade remarked that Alternate might be right to be concerned. Tony disagreed with them, claiming Alternate's plan was the best yet. Fino could imagine her placing a hand on his shoulder with a smile.

 _They're talking about the robbery,_ she thought, inching closer to hear more. The tent was pegged tightly to the ground, not allowing for the hem to be lifted. Fino didn't want to make any noise trying to pull it up. A ripple from the canvas might alert them. Instead, she sat on her haunches, listening to the conversation while keeping an eye out for watchmen.

"According to your plan, the heist will take half the time it did the last one," Holloway said, sounding pleased. "You shouldn't worry."

"But what if they change the guards' schedules by the time we get back? You heard what they said when we were there," Alternate replied. "We don't know _when_ they're going to do it. I say we wait a while longer before we strike. Then we need to scope it out again."

Holloway was quiet, but Shade said, "His suggestion is wise. You like your plans to be seamless, Holloway."

The leader paused a few more moments before answering. "I've waited years to do this. But you're right. I can't allow even a small mistake in our plans."

"What about the camp? Shall we move it?"

"No. We're safe here."

"What about that girl from earlier?"

"Her name is Fino," Alternate interjected, sounding irritated.

"It doesn't make a difference to me what her name is," Shade snapped. "She knows where our camp is. What if she tells a marshal? We'll have an entire army after us! What about your plans then?"

"She won't do anything," Alternate said. "She doesn't care about what white men do."

Fino fumed. _That's buffalo chips! Of course I care about what you're doing, you knucklehead!_

"She certainly cared about what _you_ were doing," Shade countered. "Do you seriously think she's gone for good? She liked you quite a lot."

Alternate sighed. "I don't think we have anything to worry about. I made it clear I didn't want her around."

 _You certainly did._ Fino could tell his resolve wasn't shaken. He still wanted to stay with the outlaws, and her visit hadn't done a thing to change that. She was beginning to feel hopeless.

"So we're staying?" Tony asked.

"After this discussion, yes," Holloway said with a resigned tone. "This place is secluded and remote. But keep our men on the lookout."

With that, Shade and Tony were dismissed, but Holloway requested Alternate to stay.

"You haven't been yourself since that girl showed up," Holloway said, concerned. "Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine. I was just a little upset, that's all," said Alternate. "I really do think we need to wait a while before the next haul."

"I understand. However, I must agree with Shade that the girl seemed fond of you. She came all this way to find you."

Fino felt warmth rising in her cheeks.

"Well, we've known each other for a while," Alternate explained. "It doesn't surprise me."

"Do you feel the same way for her?"

Fino held her breath as she awaited the answer, but Alternate hesitated.

"I… I'm…" He seemed at a loss. "I don't really know. I saw her as a good friend and a partner, but we had trouble working together."

 _I thought we worked fine together,_ Fino thought. _We were so close to getting Blush, and all because we worked hard together to find him. So I messed up. Why does that mean we don't work well as a team?_

"Are you and Tony getting along well?" Holloway asked.

"We're doing great. She's the most competent partner I've had."

Fino's heart could've shriveled up and dropped out of her chest like rotten fruit off a tree. _The most_ competent _partner you've had? Then what was I to you, Alternate?_

Holloway chuckled. "That's good to hear. Then we can know for certain our work at the First Union in Silver Ridge will reap the greatest reward yet."

"I look forward to it."

Even after Alternate left the tent, Fino was still crouching next to the wall. She let herself fall back on her butt over what she'd just heard. It sounded like Alternate may have had feelings for her, but what happened? Had being a white man in her village made him too uncomfortable to let his feelings come to full bloom? That had to be the reason why.

 _It's because I'm an Indian. He thinks we can't be together because we're too…different._ But she knew that was ridiculous. Whites and Indians did intermarry, although rarely. She even had a relative with white spouse. That shouldn't have stopped Alternate. _Then maybe he never had feelings for me at all. Maybe he just saw me as a friend._ She found no comfort in this. She wanted to be more than just his friend.

Fino didn't know how long she'd been sitting there lost in her thoughts. It was when Holloway turned off his lamp that she returned to reality. Quietly, she stepped away from the tent and lurked over the outcropping to look at the camp. The fires had died down. Most of the tents had their lights out, but a few remained lit.

She heard soft voices off to her left. Fino snuck over in their general direction until the glow of a lantern stopped her. Large stones afforded her some cover while she watched the couple sitting near a wide stone cleft.

Alternate and Tony sat on the ground side-by-side with a lantern beside them. They spoke in low tones, but Fino's keen hearing heard every word.

"I just have a bad feeling about it all," Alternate said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not so much the changing of the guards that's bothering me. I can't shake the feeling someone's on to us."

"I don't think your friend had anything to do with it," Tony said to comfort him. "I talked to her and she seemed like a nice girl. A little rough around the edges, but still..."

"But you said she asked about the bank."

"She didn't mean anything by it."

"Fino's more clever than you think." Alternate looked up at the stars. "This heist is really important to me. I want to make Holloway proud."

Tony's hand moved to cover his. "He already is. Once this is done, we'll all go to Mexico."

At her touch, Alternate smiled shyly. Tony giggled and nudged him with her shoulder.

Fino realized she was clenching her fists so tightly her hands were aching.

"When we do, and everything is settled, then maybe I can look for my mother," Alternate said with another glance at the stars. In response, Tony rested her head on his shoulder. He didn't try to pull away, but kept looking at the sky, appearing perfectly comfortable with the young woman at his side.

Fino momentarily forgot her jealousy. _His mother? The comb!_ That had to be why Alternate had taken that comb out of his father's basement. It probably belonged to his mother. How did that fit into all this? _And what does Tony know about it?_

"I'll help you," Tony said softly. "I bet she was a beautiful woman."

"She had to have been for two men to love her."

"Beautiful inside and out."

"Yeah."

Tony lifted her head. "Are you going to tell Holloway?"

"Not yet. I'd like to wait until everything is done. That way, nothing will be in the way to distract us."

"Mm-hm."

As Alternate gazed up at the endless universe, Fino wanted to know what he was thinking about.

_Not about me, that's for sure._


	15. Chapter 15

The First Union in Silver Ridge. That was what Holloway had said. Fino repeated the names over and over in her mind as she tiptoed down the path out of the hills. She'd almost forgotten those words, wrapped up as she was in her own emotional turmoil.

It hadn't taken much to get her to leave Alternate and Tony behind. She was so angry and upset she wanted to vomit, and so she'd slipped away.

_Am I doing this in vain?_ she wondered. _What's the point of trying to save his life when he obviously doesn't want me to?_ She should give up, and leave Alternate to his fate. Maybe he wouldn't get caught. Maybe he'd go off to Mexico and live out the rest of his life in peace. _He was right to tell me to let him live his own life. I shouldn't try to stop him._

She was still weighing her options when she arrived back at her horse. Tonight she would camp, but tomorrow was uncertain. One option would be to go back home. Forget Quincy and his "help." He'd be smart enough to figure out she'd abandoned the plan. The other option would be to move forward. She had the information Quincy needed. Now all they needed to do was lie in wait for the outlaws to make their move.

_How will Alternate feel when his plans are ruined? Will he be angry with me once again?_ It'd be all her fault, just like he'd accused her before.

Her thoughts kept her awake as they churned about in a sickening whirlpool. There was comfort in the thought of going home. There she could forget and move on with her life. Maybe in a few years she could find a husband and start a family of her own. Yaghi would grow up and get married, too, and Fino could help look after her nieces and nephews. The smiling faces of her relatives filled her mind, beckoning her to return. The warm hides and glowing fire in her tipi would be much better than shivering in misery in this empty desert.

* * *

By morning, her mind was made up. After eating a small ration of food, Fino was able to think more clearly about her choices. It was amazing what a bit of food could do to lift her out of depression, albeit just a mite. Her heart still ached from what she'd witnessed last night, but she felt the right thing to do would be to continue with her mission to save Alternate from the noose. Even if in the end her feelings did not reach him, it would be worth it. It'd haunt her the rest of her days if she did nothing.

The sun had just cleared the horizon when she set out into the wilderness. She headed due south for Murdoch as before, keeping her eyes open for anyone following her. The plan was make it to the town before evening. How she would find Quincy after that was unknown, but it wasn't something she was worried about. They would find each other somehow or other.

Even in the morning hours the heat was beginning to rise. Somewhere in the back of her mind Fino knew she needed to get out her canteen, but she was focused on the trail ahead of her. Her thoughts wandered, running through the possible plans Quincy might have. He'd want to scope out the bank first and foremost, maybe warn the people working there that there would be a robbery. But in order to catch the outlaws unaware like Quincy wanted, he'd have to let them at least get close to the bank. Would he insist the outlaws actually be allowed _inside_?

Remembering the number of outlaws in the camp, Fino wasn't sure how the bounty hunter was going to capture them all. There were many potential scenarios that could result, some disastrous. It made Fino nervous to consider the possibilities. How in the world was Quincy going to do this?

The Zodiac Gun was secured at her hip. Perhaps Quincy could benefit from her in more ways than getting the name of the bank. If he couldn't maim all the outlaws in one fell swoop with his rifle, then Fino certainly could.

What worried Fino the most wasn't failure or using her gun, though. It was what would happen to Alternate. He would be spared as Quincy promised, but would he make a run for it when the bounty hunter attacked the outlaws during the robbery? No. Fino had no doubts Alternate would fight, and what would he do when he discovered her alliance with the bounty hunter? _I'd be his enemy. He might even try to fight me, too._

It was something Fino had been pondering. Quincy never mentioned what her involvement would be in foiling the robbery. She'd assumed she wouldn't be, and that she'd sit on the sidelines waiting for the hunter to finish the job. _But could I really do that? Should I just sit back and let him do all the work?_ Part of her said yes, but another part of her refused. It had less to do with her pride than with the fact that innocent people might get caught in the crossfire, and that the outlaws were wanting to steal something that didn't belong to them. Fino knew all too well what that was like. She didn't want that to happen.

The notion surprised her. _Why should I care what happens to white peoples' money?_ But it had nothing to do with people being white. They were _people_ , plain and simple. In her village, the storytellers often told the tale about how Creator made all colors of people, and how the White Man and the Red Man were originally brothers whose relationship went awry. Fino never believed the "brotherhood" story for most her life. Instead, she believed Indians were the "true people" and whites were a deviant form of humanity. She felt that way until she met Mingchao and her friends.

_I had let myself be consumed by bitterness. If it hadn't been for Mingchao and the others, don't think I'd be where I'm at today._ She goaded Snow onward with a renewed determination. _I can't let those outlaws go free._

She was still thinking this when her horse was passing by a butte. It was a butte she'd passed yesterday with a wary eye. Its rocky face was high, making it the perfect lookout to see over the vast landscape. Enormous craggy stones near its base made ideal spaces for hidden spies looking to make an ambush. Today, however, she wasn't concerned about being watched. The conversation between Holloway and his compatriots the previous night made Fino believe the outlaws weren't interested in leaving the camp.

If only she hadn't thrown her caution to the wind.

A sudden boom made Snow lurch violently. Fino was launched over the saddle where she hit the ground hard. A sharp stone stabbed her in the ribs while another scraped her temple as she landed on her side. Stars danced across her vision and pain jolted through her skull. The Zodiac Gun smashed against her hip, causing agony enough to make her nauseated.

Coughing, Fino tried to roll over. She gasped to fill her winded lungs and looked over at her horse. Snow had landed on his side, but he wasn't moving. The reason became apparent when she saw the blood dribbling down the side of Snow's head in streams. He was dead.

As she tried to keep the panic at bay, Fino scrambled for the pouch of scorpions. It had twisted itself under her arm beneath her cape and was somewhere behind her. She yanked at it until it came around, but by the time she got her fingers into the opening she heard the tinkling of bells. When she looked up, there was a pistol aimed between her eyes.

"Holloway can be a little too complacent sometimes," Shade said with a flat, humorless expression. "In case you're wondering, I saw some tracks around his tent this morning; moccasins. I knew of only one person who wore moccasins around here."

"How did you get ahead of me?" Fino croaked.

"I know this country like the back of my hand," Shade said. His face never changed as he stared at her. "I know all the shortcuts and the trails. I followed your tracks and knew you'd be heading this way. You're going to Murdoch."

Fino grimaced. "I wanted to talk to Alternate again—"

"But you didn't."

"Because I realized my mistake and left!"

"You're lying. You heard us talking at the meeting last night." He pulled back the hammer on his gun. "You're working with the Preacher's Kid."

"I don't even know who—"

She gurgled as Shade kicked her down and pressed his foot against her throat. Her hands went up to push him away, but he stayed firm.

"Little squaw bitches shouldn't lie. It's really not becoming of them," he said between gritted teeth.

His victim was too busy struggling for air to retort. She reached up to tear at his trousers and ripped away a few of the bells.

Shade smiled sweetly. "I wonder how Alternate would feel if he found out you were conspiring against him."

Fino stopped squirming.

The outlaw touched his forehead as he thought. "But why would you conspire against him? Is it the bounty money you're after?" He glanced at her with a creased brow. "No. I don't take you as the type who'd be interested in money. Is it…love? And therefore you feel a moral obligation to stop him?"

He wasn't given an answer as Fino was still under his foot. He laughed. "If that's true, then you're out of luck. Alternate's quite taken with Antoinette." He increased the pressure on her neck. "He doesn't give a damn about you."

Shade lifted his foot and drove a hard kick to Fino's head.

* * *

The darkness was the most peace she'd felt in long time. It would almost be a shame to leave it. But with the light coming toward her, her time was up. The pain followed.

Fino first noticed was how dry her lips felt. They burned and ached. Her entire left side felt like it was on fire from exposure to the sun, and her body hurt something fierce. Weakly, she moved her head to see her dead horse. At the sight of Snow, her heart broke. He was such a trustworthy and honorable animal. He didn't deserve to be murdered like that.

Her vision kept going in and out of focus, and so she kept blinking to clear it. The sun was harsh and blinding, and her head throbbed from Shade's hit. Why had he left her alive? She was certain he'd wanted to kill her. _He wants me to die slowly to exposure. He knows Murdoch is too far for walking._ What a cruel, sick man.

When Fino attempted to sit up, she almost shouted for the pain in her body. She removed her riding gauntlets to feel her head. Dried blood caked the right side of her head where the stone had scraped her. A large lump had formed on the left side. Had Shade really wanted her dead, he could've beaten her to death, but instead he wanted her unconscious so she'd awaken alone and helpless.

_I have to get water._ Fino dragged herself to Snow so she could reach the saddlebags. The movements were nearly unbearable, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming out. She found Snow had fallen on the saddlebag where the canteen was. There was no hope of getting it out from under such a heavy animal.

Sighing, Fino crawled over to sit by the horse' head. She placed a hand on his forehead and muttered a prayer to the Creator. She asked that Snow-on-the-Earth would find endless green pasture in the land of the dead, and thanked Snow for his friendship. It bothered her that she'd have to leave him here in this unforgiving desert, but there was nothing more she could do.

A wave of dizziness passed over her, and Fino braced herself as it went. She sat there alone under the broiling sun, trying to figure out what to do next. The butte behind her might have some place at its base where water had collected, but in her condition she could barely move. It felt more like Shade her beaten her whole body and not just her head.

Moving slowly, Fino got to her knees and decided to crawl toward the butte. She looked around for the usual plants that would indicate water was near the surface, but didn't see any. Knowing there hadn't been any rain for several weeks in this area anyway, Fino doubted she'd find water anywhere nearby. Her best bet would be to find a wash, but she didn't have a clue where one might be, and she wasn't in any shape to be looking around for one. The spring near Murdoch was still several miles away, and walking that distance in this heat with a broken body would be suicide.

Her next plan was to find shelter from the sun. The angle of the sun allowed some the rocks of the butte to cast shade over the surrounding scree. Fino put her riding gauntlets back on and began hauling herself over the rocks. Even with her hands protected, she could feel the heat on her palms. Had it not been for the leather, the heat would've been searing. Crawling in a dress made her progress slow, but she didn't want to expose her knees to the hot stones and scrape them. Ultimately it didn't matter. Her clumsy movements got dirt up inside her dress and down in her moccasins.

When she reached a boulder that had enough shade to cover her, Fino dragged herself into its blessed shadow. Even though the shade wasn't that much cooler, it was still preferable to being exposed directly.

Fino leaned against the stone and stared down at where she had come. Her horse lay dead in the middle of the trail. A dark pool of blood had soaked the earth around his head and then dried. She wasn't sure how often travelers came this way, but hoped someone would pass by.

Lifting her dress, she could see the bruising along her calves and thighs. They were painful to the touch. Shade had done a number on her. When she went to check her face, she found her lower lip split and beginning to swell. Whatever else he had done would be discovered later.

Fino blinked away the sweat that dripped into her eyes as she thought about the things Shade had said. _If he tells Alternate, I'm doomed. There's no way he'll ever want to be my friend again._ But that was going to happen anyway, wasn't it? The whole truth would be revealed in the end. At this point, Fino should consider her relationship with Alternate to be over.

" _He doesn't give a damn about you."_

If Alternate knew where she was now, would he? Would he care and come rushing to her rescue?

Fino chuckled to herself and winced at the pain in her ribs. She used to think she was strong, more than capable of taking care of herself, and never needing rescue from anyone. But ever since Alternate had saved her life from that nasty Franklin and his cronies several months ago, she began to feel differently. Where Blush had betrayed her and murdered her parents, Alternate had risked his life and saved hers. When she saw Alternate's courage and willingness to help, she had to restrain her pride and begin accepting help more often. She would never let his efforts be in vain.

_But he won't be risking his life for me today. Maybe not ever again._

Numbness overcame her. She stared idly at the rocks below. This wasn't like her to just want to give up, but she'd never felt this way about anyone before. It was like she couldn't go on without Alternate. She wanted him beside her. He needed to be with her so they could find Blush and get justice for their parents. That was the only way they could succeed in their revenge.

_But he said we're a bad team. He doesn't want to be with me._

She felt hot tears pour down her cheeks and her vision blurred again. She didn't try to wipe them away. What good would it do when only more would come cascading down? Sobs began to wrack her sore body, but she didn't care. She didn't care about anything anymore.


	16. Chapter 16

The moon crept across the starlit sky. Its wide face faintly illuminated the desert in the chill, making the silent land appear lonely in the yawning emptiness. The sky glittered with stars as the grand swath of the Milky Way stretched over the dome of night.

Quincy would've noticed the beauty if he hadn't been in a rush. It was late, too late. He knew something was going to happen when Sticky had arrived at the hotel to tell him about Fino's plan to return to the outlaw camp. He had approved of the move, but the concern gnawed at him. To return to the camp a second time was riskier than the first, and even Quincy would've been hesitant, but the girl had already proven to him that she liked to make her own decisions. It had grated against his natural leadership, but Quincy was never one to want to control people. In fact, he admired Fino's independence for one so young. She wasn't meek or demure, but willing to take a risk where it was needed. What she wanted to do was for the greater good of someone else.

He spurred his horse ahead, and the black beast, aptly named Hellfire, charged on with a snort. Sticky clung to him from behind, and another horse followed. It almost seemed impossible that the big man saddled on the strawberry roan could sit there. It wasn't his stature, but rather his wide girth that worried Quincy. However, he'd never seen the animal give out.

"She may be camped out, boss," the big man called in a heavy accent.

"I'm hoping she is," Quincy replied over the noise of his horse. "But I have a feeling something's gone wrong. She should've been back by now, Lobo." He felt Sticky squeeze him, concurring with his worries. The boy had come to like Fino for her kindness. When he'd gone back to town with the water skin, Quincy hadn't been surprised. Although the girl hadn't mentioned anything about her family back home, he suspected she must've cared for someone around Sticky's age.

Lobo muttered something Quincy didn't catch. The hefty Mexican had been a loyal ally for years now. People often disregarded him for being a drunkard and a lowlife, wearing old patched clothes that were ill-fitting. He was also scruffy and unshaven. When Quincy befriended him during one particular pursuit, Lobo had proven to be of more value than expected. He was skilled with guns, knives, and explosives, but dynamite was his favorite weapon of choice. With his help, Quincy was able to catch a cunning outlaw who almost eluded capture. In return, he shared a portion of the bounty with Lobo. It wasn't unreasonable to suspect the big man was more interested in bounties than friendship, but he'd more than once risked his life for Quincy.

They'd left the hotel in Murdoch at midnight. Quincy believed Fino should've been back by that evening, and so when the sun dipped below the horizon, his worries began. He didn't believe she had abandoned their plan and gone home. She was too ambitious for that. That's why he felt something had gone wrong.

"Maybe she's with the Black Eagles?" Lobo suggested.

"They'd never let her in again," said Quincy, his eyes scanning the dimness. The moon gave just enough light to let him see the trail ahead, but it was his horse that led the way. Carrying a light would've given them away, and so Quincy had opted to go without. If Fino was camped near the trail, he should see a light from a fire, but he didn't. Lobo's reasoning wasn't too far-fetched. The gang wouldn't have let her back in willingly. If she was captured…then she might be dead.

There was something different about the trail just then. A black amorphous object sat in the middle of the path. Its shape confused Quincy at first, and he slowed his horse. Patches of white were highlighted by the moon, and it took him a moment to make out the prone form of a pinto horse on its side. "That's her horse!"

They skidded to a stop, and Quincy dismounted. He took a small lantern out of one of the saddlebags and lit it. Lobo did the same. When they approached the dead horse, Lobo whistled in amazement. "Right in the head. Good shot."

"Yes," Quincy said. He searched the ground.

"Lots of blood."

"I see that."

"But no _chica_."

"And that worries me."

Sticky came to stand and watch. He also looked concerned.

"Pity," said Lobo. "She sounded interesting. You said she was feisty." He grinned, showing a few missing teeth amongst yellow survivors. "You like feisty girls, eh?"

Quincy ignored his comment. "I just hope she was feisty enough to fight off whoever did this." He rummaged through the only saddlebag he could reach since the other was pinned under the horse. "The horse is cold. It's been dead awhile. I'm not finding this other canteen she mentioned, either."

Lobo shrugged. "Ehh, maybe someone came by and helped her?"

Quincy stood over the horse, thinking through every possibility. It would be most fortunate had someone found Fino and taken her in. But whatever had happened to her, she didn't start walking back to town, because he would've met her on the way. She was off the trail.

The butte beside them loomed large like a sleeping giant. Deep shadows settled among the rocks. Even with the bright moon, it wasn't possible to see far. Quincy was still considering it when Lobo started to make the climb. Sometimes that man could read his mind. It was a testament to their teamwork.

Quincy stayed behind to view the tracks around the horse. Some people had passed down this trail recently, including Fino, but there were some marks in the earth that indicated a bad turn of events. There was dark patch on the ground a few feet ahead of the horse. Blood.

He felt a tug on his jacket and turned to find Sticky holding something in his hand. When Quincy brought the lantern around to see, his heart dropped. Glinting in the light was a small silver bell in Sticky's palm. The boy was giving him a serious look. _It was him_ , he was saying.

Quincy rubbed his face. If Shade had attacked Fino, she was mostly likely dead. That son of Hell never spared anyone, young or old, man or woman. Or child. A cold darkness resided in Shade's soul, one so deep and fathomless… No, Shade didn't even have a soul. That was his problem. He wasn't human.

"Boss!" Lobo shouted from somewhere on high. "She's here!"

Quincy rushed up the butte with Sticky and followed Lobo's lantern light. The distance was about two hundred feet up a relatively steep grade. Fino had been right here this whole time. Why hadn't she called out to them?

They found her slumped against a large boulder, probably for shade earlier in the day. She was still breathing, but unresponsive. This raised more alarming questions.

Quincy crouched beside her and tried to turn her chin toward him. "Fino?"

She moaned softly but didn't acknowledge him.

Lobo brought the lantern in close. "She's in bad shape. You think she crawled up here?"

"I doubt she ran."

"Come on, boss…"

Quincy examined her face. "She couldn't get to any water, and probably figured she needed to wait to be found. This was her best choice."

"He didn't kill her?"

Quincy gave his companion a sharp look. Reading his mind again? "Sticky found one of the bells from Shade's clothes. This is something he would do. He wanted her to die like this."

Lobo nodded in agreement. "Too easy to just shoot her."

"You mean not _fun_ enough. It would've taken too long to torture her like I'm sure he wanted to. He's accountable to Holloway and probably had to get back at a reasonable time." He carefully took Fino up in his arms. "Let's get her back to town. Get as much of her stuff as you can and we'll take it with us."

They carefully picked their way down the hillside. When they reached their horses, Quincy stopped to lay Fino down on the ground and make an assessment of the damage. "She might need a doctor," he said. Lifting her dress to look at her legs, he sighed.

Lobo's eyes went wide. "Did he…?"

"No," Quincy said with a glare. "And if he did, I'll be choosing 'dead' over 'alive' when I take him in." He saw that her arms displayed similar bruising in addition to her head and neck. Did she have any broken bones? "Lobo, there's a blanket on my horse. It's freezing and she's been sitting out here for hours."

Lobo complied, and Quincy wrapped Fino in a blanket for the trip back to Murdoch. When she was lifted to the horse to sit in front of him, she groaned again.

"Al…Alter…nate?" she mumbled. She tried to lift her head to see Quincy's face. "You…came for…me?"

Quincy chose not to correct her. "You're safe now. Just rest."

She said nothing more and fell unconscious.

* * *

The sky was beginning to lighten in the early morning hours when they arrived in Murdoch. The town was large, populated by about ten thousand people who had flocked to the region when a silver mine opened and created a rush. The mine was a collection of large gray buildings situated on a hillside to the west, but in the cold pre-dawn light it was still. The town sprawled out in front of it, as if the mine had given birth to so many babies. The roads networking from the mine were haphazard at first, until some order had been established and a proper grid was formed. All of these were lifeless. For a mining town in the midst of a bonanza, the night life was dead.

Riding back had been slow since Quincy didn't want to jostle Fino too much, but she'd groaned most of the way nevertheless. She'd often mutter something about Alternate, but her feverish babbling made little sense. Not that it mattered to Quincy. His main priority was getting her to a doctor.

They banged on the door of the first doctor's office they could find, but received no answer.

"It's too early in the morning, boss," Lobo said. He cradled Fino while Quincy stalked off down the street to find the next office. The big man followed closely with Sticky beside him. "No one will answer, and even if they did, would they take an Indian?"

"I'll pay them in gold if I have to," Quincy replied. "That's what I always do when all else fails."

Lobo chuckled. "You know how to speak the language of men."

Quincy said nothing. They tried two more offices with the same results, and by the time they left the third office the town was beginning to awaken. People emerged from their homes, and business owners were unlocking their stores. A wagon started down the street, and a couple of riders trotted by. A few noted Lobo carrying Fino.

"Boss, she's not so bad. Maybe we don't need a doctor?" said Lobo with a shrug. "We can go back to the hotel, put her in the bed."

Quincy let the suggestion pass and kept moving. It was when Sticky caught up and grabbed his jacket from behind that he finally stopped. The boy looked up at him with pleading eyes and made a sign for water, and pointed at Fino.

"He's right, boss," Lobo said. "This _chica_ needs water."

Quincy was conflicted. The longer they searched for a doctor, the more they delayed Fino's treatment. He had enough knowledge of wilderness medicine to care for minor wounds, and a few major ones, but he feared anything worse than that may be beyond his abilities. Fino was young. He didn't want her to suffer any injuries that may affect her the rest of her life.

With the thought of taking her back to the hotel, Quincy realized he was exhausted. "Okay," he conceded, "let's take her back."

The hotel was the sort he always chose, plain and cheap. He supposed it had more to do with his upbringing. His career choice didn't mesh well with the religion of his parents, but he still retained some aspects of its teachings. He wasn't sure if it was simply out of habit or because those values somehow preserved a portion of his past identity.

The clerk at the desk was surprised and dismayed to see Quincy and his troupe, but his demeanor changed quickly when the bounty hunter paid in gold. Then a woman came out from a back room behind the counter wearing a blue floral dress and white apron. She was middle-aged with blond hair pulled up tightly, and she carried a wash cloth in one hand as if she'd been washing something.

"You there," Quincy said, pointing at her. His glare must've startled her because she jumped back at his command. "I need a bath prepared, and I need someone to help my friend here." He gestured to Fino in Lobo's arms. The woman eyed them suspiciously with a little contempt. To add emphasis, Quincy placed a few silver coins on the desk. "Please, help her. She needs to be undressed, and I can't do that."

The clerk and the woman stared at the money with wonder, but the woman gaped at Quincy's audacity.

"Y-you want me to help an _Indian_?" she squeaked.

"If it's more money you need…"

The woman hesitated, as if she couldn't decide whether being paid for the job was dirtier than handling Fino. But when she got a closer look at the girl, her eyes softened.

"I'll get the water ready," she said at last with a defeated shrug.

As promised, a bath was prepared in Quincy's room while Fino lay on the bed. He'd chosen the room with reluctance at first because it cost more to have a bathtub in it, but now he was glad he did. The woman, whose name was Damaris, let up on her prejudices when she saw Fino's condition up close.

"She's hit her head pretty hard," Damaris said as she rolled up her sleeves. Quincy picked up the dressing screen and adjusted it to shield the tub.

"She was beaten by a bandit on the road," he replied.

"You called her your friend earlier. Do you know each other?"

"We're acquainted. Her name is Fino."

"She's far from home, it seems."

"Aren't we all?"

Damaris was curious as she looked at him, but she didn't reply. Once the bath was ready, she shooed Quincy and his friends out of the room. When asked if she needed any assistance, she declined.

Lobo and Sticky headed out to find some breakfast at Quincy's insistence, but Quincy stayed outside the room's door, leaning against the wall. He listened to the water splashing and Damaris's occasional mumbling. He didn't hear any noise from Fino. She'd still need a doctor, he believed.

He blamed himself. Maybe Dawson was right about not getting Fino involved, but the opportunity was just too good to pass up. Quincy knew a strong person when he saw one, and quickly knew Fino was perfect for the job. Her stubborn defiance in face of the odds reminded him of someone he cared about. Yet it was more than just stubbornness that made her suitable. Fino wasn't concerned about justice against the outlaws. It was obvious to Quincy from the start that she was in love with this Alternate kid.

 _Love is the perfect motivator for anything, getting us into all sorts of messes_ , he thought with cynical amusement. He hadn't been able to stay long and watch Fino's entry into the outlaw camp. He left soon after because he realized the gang would go out seeking any accomplices she might had. But he'd wanted to observe Fino's interaction with Alternate.

Damaris mumbled again, and Fino groaned. Quincy thought the girl might awaken and be frightened by a stranger bathing her, but the groaning stopped. She wouldn't have the strength to fight back anyway.

When he thought about her wounds, it brought him back to Shade. What had Fino said to him? There was a strong chance Shade would tell Holloway about his ambush against her. If Fino indicated her alliance with Quincy at all, even in the slightest, then Shade would make the assumption that she intended to foil their robbery. The gang might know by now, and change their plans. They might back down from their target and choose another. If Fino got the name of the bank, then the information might be useless now.

 _Which puts us back at square one_. It had taken Quincy years to get this close to Shade. The man moved constantly. He was cunning and merciless, capable of a convincing friendship with anyone he encountered. One wouldn't know the truth until it was too late. Quincy had learned that in the worst way possible. Now he was spending his youth trying to fix his mistake. At the gallows, he would make sure Shade looked into the eyes of the person he destroyed, before the outlaw plunged into the burning depths of Hell.

As he was leaning against the wall, the door opened and Damaris stepped out. Her arms were dripping and her sleeves were damp. "I'm afraid her clothes will have to be cleaned as there is some blood on them. I didn't see any obvious signs of broken bones, but she seemed sensitive around her ribs. There may be a few that are cracked."

Quincy nodded. "That may be."

"She'll have to borrow some clothing until I can get her old ones washed. Unfortunately, she may be uncomfortable in white women's clothing, but it's the best we can do. I have a dress I think might fit. It used to belong to my daughter when she was young."

Quincy agreed, and Damaris returned to the room to finish up Fino's bath. He wondered how the woman was getting Fino in and out of the tub, but he supposed she was stronger than she looked. He heard the water slosh again and Damaris grunt. After a stretch of quiet, the woman emerged from the room again with an armful of buckskin clothes and shut the door.

She gave Quincy a stern look. "She's in bed right now, but she doesn't have any clothes on, so I wouldn't advise you to go inside just yet. I live a little down the street and I'll get an appropriate dress for her. While I'm at it, I'll fetch a doctor, since you didn't."

Quincy was about to retort when she left him at the door and disappeared down the hall. Ignoring her warning, Quincy cracked open the door to look at Fino. She was lying in bed with the covers pulled up to her neck. Her face was bruised and her bottom lip was split and scabbed over. Her head moved slightly, and her brow creased as if in pain.

This was going to be a setback, and Quincy had two choices. If Fino had the necessary information, then he could move on and leave her here to recover. He would keep his promise to help Alternate. This was the best choice, in his opinion. But if he chose to wait until she was strong enough to move, then the outlaws could strike and Quincy would miss his chance.

Leaving Fino alone like this probably wouldn't be the kindest thing to do, though, and he didn't know if she'd be okay with it. But he never got the impression that she cared much either way.

As much as he thought it would be best to leave her and finish the rest of the mission, he figured it was better to ask her first.

He shut the door and continued to wait outside on the floor against the wall. He could hear Lobo's teasing already. _You have a soft spot for the ladies, you know. When are you going to get married, eh? Find a nice girl and settle down? She's a nice girl; maybe you should ask her! Haha!_

Quincy scoffed.

About thirty minutes later, Damaris returned with a new set of clothes and a doctor. He was a heavy set fellow with a girth equal to Lobo, but he was much cleaner in appearance. Quincy stood to greet them.

"I hear you brought in an Indian squaw," the doctor said, neither scornful nor sympathetic. "Beaten by a loathsome ruffian in the wilderness."

The doctor was invited into the room. He'd introduced himself as Dr. Rufus, a long-time friend and doctor of Damaris. His expression was serious when he first saw Fino, but before Quincy could ask any questions he was ordered out of the room by Damaris. The doctor would need to view Fino's entire body before she could be dressed.

Another fifteen minutes passed before the doctor left the room. He explained Fino probably had at least a few cracked ribs, but no other broken bones. The injuries to her head required that she rest and not exert herself for a while. She would be sore for some time and have difficulty moving for a few days. Quincy paid him handsomely for his services. Showing nothing but neutrality, the doctor took the payment with a simple thanks.

When he was gone, Damaris gave the bounty hunter dubious lookover. "Sir, if I didn't know any better, I would say you know of a great valley where money grows on trees."

She didn't know his profession, so he only allowed a polite smile. Hunting for bounties, although mainly reserved for law enforcement to supplement their meager incomes, was not a way to get rich quick. But Quincy was conservative with his money and valued frugality, a characteristic instilled in him by his mother. On top of that, he'd bagged a few outlaws with considerable bounties that had bolstered his bank account in the last few years. Those men had been with the Black Eagles.

Damaris clothed Fino and let Quincy into the room. The woman assured him that he didn't need to pay her any more, and that she would help him look after Fino, but he would need to get another room for himself. She felt it was improper that he share a room with a young girl. The next available room was two doors down, not quite what he was hoping for. Lobo and Sticky usually stayed in separate accommodations for safety reasons. None of their enemies could attack them all at the same time that way.

When Damaris left, Quincy brought a chair to the bed to watch over Fino. When she awoke and was coherent, he'd get the answers he needed.


	17. Chapter 17

Consciousness came and pulled away like waves on the seashore. Fragmented memories flickered through her mind of yesterday and days long past, slipping into the cracks of her aching skull to lodge there and throb. She moaned at the pain.

Most of the memories were of Alternate. The way he smiled, laughed, and joked with her were like drying leather thongs wrapped around her heart and squeezing it. There was one particular memory of a night when they'd camped out under the stars together. They'd been lying on the ground side by side as Fino pointed out constellations associated with tribal stories. Alternate had been fascinated by her peoples' ability to tell time and seasons by looking at what was happening in the sky and on the earth. He'd depended so much on white men's technology his whole life that he never learned to read the more subtle rhythms of nature. Fino had been keenly aware of his warmth so close to her. At one point, as she began explaining a legend, they'd turned to look at each other. The gaze had lasted longer than normal, but Fino was the first to look away. Her face had been burning with a blush, but the feelings made her so uncomfortable she had pushed them aside to think about something else. It was the first time she had ever felt that way about Alternate. That was the day she'd fallen in love with him.

But she'd ignored it all in favor of getting her revenge against Blush. It was the biggest mistake she'd ever made.

The memories faded to black. As Fino opened her eyes, she was confused to see the wooden ceiling of a room. Hadn't she been outside earlier? The sun had been setting just as she'd closed her eyes, the ground beneath her still radiating its power. After that, she'd succumbed to a blissful coma that erased the pain, only for the agony to return in her dreams.

Her body ached, but most it had subsided. The bed she was in was soft and it brought some physical comfort, and for a few moments she forgot the memories. When she breathed, her ribs hurt. Moving her jaw, she still felt where Shade had struck her, and her tongue found a space in her back teeth where a tooth had been knocked out. Funny, she didn't remember spitting out a tooth. Perhaps she hadn't been very lucid when she woke up from the beating.

She blinked to clear to her vision and looked around. It hurt just to move her neck. To her left was a dresser several feet away and a wash basin to the right of it, but what caught her eye was the bathtub in the middle of the floor. Hanging over its side were a few towels. In front of the bed was the door, and to her right—

Fino gasped. In a chair backed against the wall was Quincy, dozing with his head leaned down to one side. His hat was sitting on a nightstand next to the bed with a glass of water. His bangs, normally slicked back, had fallen over his forehead. He breathed softly.

Her gaze wandered to the thin book in his lap. It was faced down on his thigh, and he had a pencil in his right hand. Had he been writing something? Fino had heard that sometimes white people kept things called journals, and she'd even seen a few Indians carrying similar books where they liked to draw pictures.

 _How long has he been sitting there?_ she wondered. Then it occurred to her. Quincy had taken her here. She had a foggy memory of being lifted and spoken to, and she'd believed him to be Alternate. She'd hoped he would come for her, and he hadn't. How stupid to believe he would.

Fino leaned back on the pillow again as she remembered. She didn't want to remember. If only Shade's kicks had knocked all those memories out of her head, he would've done her a favor.

Feeling an itch at her neck, she went to scratch it and realize something was different about her clothes. She pushed back the sheets and found herself in a green-striped cloth dress. This prompted her to scuttle back against the headboard in shock, but she regretted the move as her sore body protested. "Ugghh!"

Quincy awoke with a start, dropping his pencil and almost losing the book. He jumped up from the chair to steady her. "Don't move so much."

"What is this?!" Fino asked, pulling at the dress. "Why am I wearing it?" She glanced at the tub, herself, and then fixed a dirty look on Quincy. "Where are my _clothes_?"

"They're being washed," he assured her.

"Where am I?"

"In a hotel in Murdoch."

"How did I get here?"

"I carried you."

Fino stared at him.

"On a horse," he added. "Sticky gave me your message. By nightfall the next day I started to worry."

Fino lifted an eyebrow. "You worried?"

"Why wouldn't I?" He looked confused as to why she would ask. "I thought perhaps the Black Eagles had captured you."

"How long have I been here?"

"About two days."

Despite the uncomfortable dress, Fino settled back into the bed and tried to relax. She wanted to ask if he would've done something had she been captured, but decided to refrain. He had come for her, and that was a good enough answer. "Who has my clothes?"

"Damaris. She works here. We also had a doctor look at you. You're in bad shape and shouldn't be moving too much for a while."

He offered to help her sit up, but she waved him away. "I'll be fine," she said. "I've been through a lot worse. I should be up by later today."

"The doctor's going to come—"

"I don't need a doctor."

"He said you have some cracked ribs."

Fino gave him a stern look. "Quincy, it's not your fault, so stop it."

Looking shocked at her remark, he shut his mouth.

"I made the choice to go back. I only have myself to blame," she said.

Quincy sat there for a moment, and then nodded in acceptance. He sat back down and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "So, what happened?"

Fino didn't want to recount her tale yet. She'd only just woken up. "I went back at night and listened at Holloway's tent. He was having a meeting with Shade, Alternate, and Tony the safecracker."

"Just them?"

"Yes. Alternate said he was worried about the guards at the bank, something about changing their routine."

"Guards?" Quincy sounded surprised.

"Is that important?"

"Not all banks have guards, but there's a bank here that recently took up the practice. Usually banks are clustered among other buildings and it makes them difficult to rob without getting caught by the sheriff just down the street, unless the bank is somehow separate."

"But Holloway said it was the First Union in Silver Ridge."

Quincy paled and went quiet. He dropped his head and ran a hand through his hair.

"What's the matter?" Fino asked, worried. "Is that the wrong bank?"

"I haven't been to Silver Ridge in a while…"

Fino was confused by his reaction. She thought he'd be elated that he finally had the last piece to his puzzle. "But that's what I heard with my own ears. He said it was the First Union in Silver Ridge."

The bounty hunter rubbed his hand over his mouth as he thought. It made scratching sounds over his stubble. He'd grown a bit of scruff since she last saw him. "Things may have changed since the last time I was there," he mumbled.

"You mean to tell me they didn't have guards before?"

"Silver Ridge is like Murdoch. It's a silver mining town and it's been growing rapidly. I haven't been there for a few years, but it wouldn't surprise me if it had doubled—no, tripled in size since I last saw it. The First Union may have expanded to accommodate for all the wealth the town's been bringing in."

He sounded doubtful, but Fino was confident she'd heard correctly. "We should go check it out."

Quincy nodded absently, still thinking about the bank. "Did you hear anything else?"

"Alternate convinced Holloway to wait until they knew more about the guards. They didn't say how long, though."

"So we don't even know when they might strike. Could be tomorrow, or it could a month."

Fino pushed aside the bed sheets. "All the more reason to get going."

One look from Quincy made her stop. "You're not going anywhere."

She threw him a scalding glare. "What?"

"You're staying here because your job in this is done."

"No way I'm just going to let you do all the work!"

"You're injured."

"So what? I always make quick recoveries."

"You've got broken bones."

"No, I don't."

"Your ribs are cracked."

"They're not cracked, they're just sore!"

Quincy gave her a critical inspection. He knew she wasn't going to back down, but he was skeptical about her claims. He shook his head, and when Fino thought he was still going to refuse, he said, "Fine, then. Do as you please. I'm willing to let you sit this out, as you've already fulfilled your part of the bargain, but it seems pointless to argue." He put up a finger. "But one more day. Show me you can move about after that, but I'm not responsible for anything else that might happen to you."

"I can take care of myself," Fino replied. "Just trust me."

"I do. You've made it this far, after all."

His affirmation boosted Fino's spirits, which was odd since it shouldn't have mattered to her whether he believed her or not. She wanted someone to trust her, especially after what happened with Alternate. She wanted to prove herself again.

"You'll see," Fino said with a confident smile. "I'll be up by tomorrow." _But I'll try to be up by later today._ Quincy would be surprised by that, wouldn't he?

He returned her smile, which further lifted the gloom from Fino's heart. It was refreshing to have someone encouraging her for once.

Quincy grabbed his hat from the nightstand the picked up the pencil from the floor. He took the small book and tucked it away in an inner pocket of his jacket. As he was walking toward the door, he said, "I'll be back in a minute. I need to let everyone know you're awake. Damaris can bring you your clothes." He paused at the door. "You're much stronger than I gave you credit for, you know."

When he left, Fino realized she was beginning to like the bounty hunter somewhat. When she looked down at the bed and her clothes, she thought about how he'd done all this for her. He even had a doctor come look at her, and it probably cost a bit of money. She could read in his actions that he believed her injuries were his fault. It seemed strange to her.

She felt guilty. _We barely know each other, yet he cares so much. I thought he was just another white man out for himself._ Then again, he could still be, she knew. She remembered Sheriff Dawson's warning, and reminded herself to watch her back. There was also the fact that Quincy killed an Indian. At some point she wanted to ask him more about that. Over the last several months, she'd learned not to rush to judgments about people and give them a chance.

Fino lay back in the bed, allowing herself to rest, hoping and praying the outlaws didn't make a move between now and tomorrow. _Just wait for me, Alternate._

* * *

Two days prior, Tony knew something was wrong when Shade arrived back at camp in the morning. She was an early riser and had just left her tent when he trotted into camp with a hard expression. He directed his scowl at her when he found her staring at him, and she returned it with a fierce look of her own.

Shade was little lower than scum as far as she was concerned. He came strutting into the gang a few years ago like he was some God-send, claiming to have developed valuable skills over the years of every sort, from robbing trains to picking locks. He was one of the best shots she'd ever seen, too. He could put several bullets through the same entry, once having shot a man seven times in the same spot through the heart. It was almost physically impossible to accomplish, but somehow he'd mastered the skill. Tony never knew anyone else able to do that. She hadn't known anyone _could_ do that.

But his favorite sport was torture. Wringing information out of people was his specialty, and he used the most heinous measures to do it. No one was exempt, neither men or women, child or elder. He made Tony sick, and even Holloway was a somewhat uneasy about him at times. Unlike Shade, the outlaw leader wasn't sadistic.

She watched him dismount and head for Holloway's section of the camp, probably to check in after his "survey" last night. Tony suspected he'd planned something different, but she couldn't be certain what. There was no reason to leave last night, and scouting for enemies wasn't necessary. After Fino left, everything was in the clear.

Tony went about starting her own personal fire and preparing breakfast. The others were just beginning to stir from their sleep. Holloway announced yesterday that they wouldn't be leaving for some time, and so everyone had started to relax. Nights were cheerful with plenty of alcohol to go around, although Tony preferred to keep her wits about her and abstain. Being the only woman in the group, she had to make clear boundaries and made it known she wasn't _that_ kind of girl. Holloway would come to her defense if need be, but Tony was able to hold her own. She may have been friendly, but she had a sharp tongue and swift right hook that could stun a man and make him think twice. If that didn't convince him, then her revolvers would. They were large and heavy, not something a pretty girl would be expected to carry. She'd taught a few men some lessons with them, and never saw those men again as a result. A few had even been with the gang.

The sound of footsteps came near and she looked up from cooking a pan of bacon. She beamed when she saw Alternate. "Sleeping in late again, Nate?" she teased.

Alternate grinned back and ran a hand through his uncombed hair. He'd dressed, but hadn't cared to button his shirt all the way or tuck it in. The suspenders on his pants dangled beside his hips. "We don't have to get up early, remember?"

Tony nodded. "It's strange to me that Holloway would delay our plans, but I trust his judgment."

"So do I."

"You're the one who convinced him to."

Alternate sat down to watch the bacon sizzle. "That looks great. I'm starved."

Tony feigned a pout. "Hey, now. Don't you have any of your own?"

Alternate shrugged. "I ate it already."

"You're supposed to ration your food. I thought you knew this by now."

He shrugged again and gazed out over the camp. "Holloway will give me some of his."

Tony smiled. "He certainly would. He favors you, you know."

Alternate was excited to hear this and leaned forward. "You think so?"

"Why is this surprising to you? It's obvious. Everyone else likes you, too."

"Except Shade."

This time Tony really did pout. "He doesn't like anybody."

"You can say that again," Alternate grumbled. "It's like he's trying to keep me at the bottom of the totem pole."

"You're not at the bottom. He probably thinks you're going to usurp his position as Holloway's second."

"Didn't you used to be second?"

"Jones was." He was the safecracker before Tony inherited his position, but one did not inherit second-in-command to Holloway. That was earned. Even though he treated Tony like a daughter, she still had to maneuver her way through the pecking order if she wanted to be that close to him. She'd started at the bottom just like everyone else, but Alternate amazed her in his flight to the top ranks in just a month. The way he was able to manipulate the men into command and devise plots reminded her of Holloway in some ways. His schemes could be so simple, yet so brilliant. She found that attractive in a man, and felt herself drawn to Alternate more and more.

"Well, I don't think you need to worry about Shade," Tony said with a lift of her chin. "Only Holloway can decide who can be his second-in-command, and if he wants you to be it, he'll say so. It doesn't matter what Shade says or does. I've seen Holloway knock down a few of the guys before."

Alternate glanced around the camp again. "Where is Shade, anyway? He left yesterday, didn't he?"

Tony scoffed. "He came in this morning at the buttcrack of dawn. Doesn't take that long to scout the perimeters. And all night? I'm not sure..."

Her friend was silent for a moment before saying, "Did you see where he went?"

"Saw him heading for Holloway's."

Alternate jumped up and started in that direction.

"H-hey! What about the bacon?" Tony whined.

"I'll get some later."

She knew what he was thinking. He was going to either confront Shade or talk to Holloway about what the man had said. She hoped it was the latter. A battle of wills was brewing between Shade and Alternate, and Tony was afraid it would erupt someday and end in someone's violent death. She always kept an eye on Shade's whereabouts, and often his proximity to Alternate, reading his expressions and interpreting his words. She had never trusted the outlaw from the beginning.

Tony quickly set aside the bacon to follow Alternate. A bad premonition came over her, and she didn't want her friend going alone. They both went to the natural platform where the outlaw leader's tent was staked, climbing the ten-foot slope leading to the top. Alternate's steps were determined as he approached, but he stopped when Shade emerged from the tent. The man was taken by surprise at first, and then gave a smug, lopsided grin. It was the one he always had when claiming victory. Tony braced herself.

"Ah, if it isn't Holloway's 'Golden Boy' and 'Little Princess,'" he said, taking in Alternate's appearance. He snorted. "You'll never get in his graces if you come dressed like that."

"So says the guy with jingle bells on his clothes," Alternate replied snidely. "Where were you last night?"

"Scouting," said Shade. "I had a feeling, so I had to go check something out." He nodded at the tent. "If you want the details, talk to him. I've got priorities I need to get sorted out."

He went to walk past them, but Alternate grabbed his sleeve and turned him about. "We didn't need any scouting," he said in a low voice.

Their faces were inches from each other, even though Alternate was a few inches shorter than Shade. Tony grew nervous. She hoped Holloway would hear and come out from the tent, but the two men kept their voices soft.

"There's much you still don't understand," Shade said flatly with a dull stare. "We're not as safe as you think."

Alternate eyed him with suspicion. "I wonder why."

Shade chuckled. "You're barking up the wrong tree." He pulled away from Alternate's grip, but their gazes remained locked.

Tony sensed the mounting tension. "What do mean, Shade? Is someone watching us?"

He glanced back at the tent, and then grabbed Alternate by his back collar to steer him away. His movements were urgent and rough, but Alternate didn't fight back. Tony followed them, ready to intervene if push came to shove. They moved behind the tent to the trail that led out of the hills. When he was satisfied with the distance, Shade stopped and shoved Alternate aside. Tony rushed to stand next to her friend, regretting that she'd left her guns back at camp. Only Shade had weapons, giving him the upper hand if anything turned ugly.

"This entire operation is threatened because of _you_ ," Shade said with a pointed finger at Alternate. "I went out scouting yesterday and found your Indian friend on her way back to Murdoch. She should've been gone yesterday morning when we let her go, never to be seen again, but she came back."

Tony looked at Alternate. He appeared surprised and shook his head. "That can't be. I personally told Fino to leave. She'd listen to me."

"You're so sure about that?"

Alternate nodded.

"You don't look so sure," Shade replied with narrowed eyes. "It doesn't make sense that she'd wait this long to leave. Why would I see her again the following afternoon, on a trail to Murdoch, when we told her the day before to leave?"

"There had to be a reason," Alternate said. "Fino knows it wouldn't do her any good to stick around."

"I think he's right," Tony interjected. "She may have stayed a while longer for a good reason, and then started for Murdoch."

Shade sneered at her. "She's an Indian. What would she want in Murdoch?"

Alternate slapped a hand to his face. "Just because she's an Indian doesn't mean she doesn't visit white towns. Besides, she told me she needed supplies and asked me where the nearest town was."

The outlaw sighed, frustrated by Alternate's attempt to explain away everything. In a swift movement, Shade grabbed him and brought him low to the ground. Tony went to stop them, but Shade looked up and gave her such a frigid glare it stopped her.

Alternate's face was almost smashed in the dirt when Shade said, "Look for yourself at the truth!"

It was then that Tony realized why they came here. She looked around at the ground to see the signs. She was no expert tracker, but she could see that one set of prints stood out among the others. Silt blown in from the plain had settled on the trail, making a perfect surface for tracks. Among the boots and hooves were the imprints of a different sort of shoe. A closer examination made this more evident.

Alternate resisted Shade's hold, and finally the outlaw let him go. "Moccasins," Shade said. "They were on one side of Holloway's tent. She was here that night to listen to our meeting."

"You don't know that for sure!" Alternate protested, stepping away from him. "She may have come before or after the meeting."

"But the real question is why she would come back at all."

"It could've been another Indian!"

"I doubt that."

Tony watched their exchange with a growing sense of dread. If Shade was right, then the question remained. "Why would she come back?" she mumbled, mostly to herself.

A sinister grin crept across the outlaw's face. "She wouldn't tell me."

Alternate burst into motion, but Tony was faster. She wrapped her arms around him from behind, using all her strength to hold him. For a man so slender Alternate was strong, but Tony squeezed tightly and pulled him back.

"Nate, don't!" she begged. As much as she didn't like Shade, getting into a fistfight with him would be a mark against Alternate's record. In-gang fighting was frowned upon and violators were severely punished.

"What did you do to Fino, _you sick bastard_?!" Alternate shouted, his face now crimson with rage.

Shade barked out a laugh. "She didn't put up much of a fight. Don't worry, I'm sure the coyotes got a good meal out of her."

Tony kept her hold on her friend as his struggle became fiercer. "Nate, please! You have to stop!"

"Yes, please do," Shade said condescendingly. "What would Holloway think if you decided to have at it with his right-hand man?"

The struggling subsided. Tony kept her hold just in case, and as she did, Shade came close to them. He leaned forward to smirk in Alternate's face.

"I never liked you, in case you hadn't already guessed," he said. "But let's make a deal here. I never told Holloway that I actually found your friend. He doesn't know about her at all. I said I found no one. That works to your benefit, doesn't it?"

Alternate relaxed, and Tony knew he was beginning to understand something. So was she.

"I'll keep the story a secret for you," Shade offered. "Holloway will never know you brought an enemy into our presence _unknowingly_."

"In return for what, exactly?" Alternate replied through gritted teeth. His body had gone rigid in an effort to control himself.

Shade leaned in closer, so close even Tony could smell his rancid breath. "You stay out of my way. Any ideas you have, you give them to me. I'm not about to lose my position to a whelp like you. If you care at all about the success of this operation, you'll do as I say."

Alternate gently pulled out of Tony's grasp, reassuring her that he wouldn't do anything foolish. His cheeks were still red from the outburst. "You still don't know why Fino came back. Why would she care about what we're doing here?"

" _You're_ the reason, of course. I'm sure being the moral type she probably didn't like the idea of you being a thief. She wanted to 'save' you, so to speak. How noble!"

The way Shade spoke suggested something more. It wasn't just because Fino was worried. She felt so strongly she was willing to put herself in danger to find Alternate, and come back a second time when told to never return.

"Oh, and just for the record, I didn't kill her," said Shade. He stepped away. "I _do_ consider Holloway's reactions."

Had he killed Fino, and Holloway found out, Shade would be demoted without being allowed a defense for his actions. In situations like this, the premeditated assassination of an enemy had to be carefully discussed first with Holloway. Acting outside of orders promised an instant reprimand. Though he was an outlaw, Holloway didn't want to be known as a murderer who killed on a whim. Plus, an enemy could very well become an ally. The leader hated seeing "good talent" go to waste.

"However," Shade continued, "I can't guarantee her survival. And don't even think about going out to look for her. Holloway wants everyone to stay in camp until he says otherwise. You wouldn't want to disobey him." He put his hands in his pockets and gave them that eerie grin. "So what do you say to our deal?"

Alternate looked down at the ground in agonized defeat. His response was barely audible. "Fine."

"And what will you do?"

"Stay out of your way."

"And?"

"Give you my plans."

"That's a good boy, just the way Holloway likes it." Next he addressed Tony. "And I'm sure you'll keep your pretty mouth shut?"

Tony nodded grudgingly, wishing she could get her hands around his neck.

"Good." Shade began walking back to camp when he stopped and slowly faced about. "Oh, and one more thing. I have reason to believe she wasn't working alone."

"But you found her camp," Tony said. "There was nothing else there but her things."

"You think I'm that stupid? I saw the ground. There was more than one person there." He waited to let that sink in. "She's working with the Preacher's Kid."

Tony and Alternate were stunned.

"That's ridiculous!" Alternate almost yelled. "Fino wouldn't do that to me. She said she was alone!"

"Well, she lied."

"She doesn't lie. She hates liars!"

Shade shrugged. "Sometimes we become what we hate."

Tony went on guard when she saw the color in Alternate's face again, but he restrained himself.

"I don't believe you," he said. "What reason would she have to work with a bounty hunter?"

For the first time, Shade didn't have an answer. "There's only one thing the Preacher's Kid wants. Why your friend would ally herself with a bounty hunter is beyond me, but there must be something she can gain from it."

Tony was crushed. She wanted to believe Fino wouldn't do that. How in the world could Fino accomplish anything when all the Preacher's Kid wanted was to see them all hang?

When Shade didn't present any evidence for his conclusion, Tony was sure he had to be wrong. He couldn't connect Fino to the Preacher's Kid. He only had a hunch.

The outlaw didn't stay to hear any more objections, and it was a relief to see him leave. Alternate stood still, staring at a rock wall ahead of him in quiet contemplation.

"Maybe there's some way we can get out and see if she's okay?" Tony suggested, placing a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

"No."

The answer was firm, and she was taken aback. "But what if we just—"

Alternate turned and took her hand from his shoulder to hold it. "Holloway _can't_ know about any of this. I can't throw everything away after I've worked so hard."

Tony felt ashamed at her suggestion. His greatest desire was to please Holloway, and she would do whatever it took to help him do that. The day would come when Alternate would speak with the leader openly, and he wanted to do it with confidence knowing he was well regarded by the man.

"I understand," she said. "I'm sorry."

He took her other hand and pulled her close to him. "But I'm glad Shade didn't go after you, too."

"He would've regretted it," Tony replied with a mischievous smile. "He knows to never lay a hand on me."

Alternate chuckled, resting his chin on her head as he held her.


	18. Chapter 18

At first she wasn't sure she could do it, but Fino steeled her will and stood up from the bed. She waited for any pain that might send her back down, but it was manageable. Earlier she'd felt her ribs and decided the doctor was wrong, and since there didn't seem to be any broken bones, she figured it was safe enough to stand and walk.

Fino took small steps across the room to the wash basin to test her balance. She made it without falling, but was dismayed when she saw her reflection in the mirror. In addition to the lumps on her head, there was a large, dark bruise high on her left cheek, and her lip had swollen somewhat. A long, wide scratch traced from the right side of her jaw to the corner of her eye. With every heartbeat, she could feel the injuries throbbing. She looked awful.

 _But I'm fine, just like I thought. Quincy and I could be out of here by tomorrow._ She returned to the bed. She was still sore, especially around the ribs. Any quick movements would hurt, and that wouldn't be good if she needed to defend herself. _If nothing happens over the next few days, my body will still have time to recover._ She could only pray this happened, and in the meantime she'd have to downplay any pain in front of Quincy.

Damaris had brought back Fino's clothes about a half-hour earlier, and said Quincy was out eating with his friends at a restaurant not too far from the hotel. Dressing quickly, Fino tucked the Zodiac Gun into her sash and headed out.

Since being hidden away in the hotel, she hadn't had the chance to see Murdoch. Just looking at the people, she knew what they were here for. Men hurried by with shovels and picks, their clothes dusted with grime from the mines. Wagons filled with workers lumbered by, moving up the wide street leading to the large gray buildings on the hillside. Railroad tracks snaked around the hill. The train was nowhere in sight, but its whistle was heard in the distance.

Fino gazed at the structures that were huddle together, like a scab on the earth. It sent a chill down her spine to think about how these whites were ripping away the womb of Mother Earth, without offering respect or thanksgiving. How sad the Mother must be to see her children treat her so.

Tearing her eyes away from the depressing sight, Fino searched for a restaurant called the Silver Spoon, supposedly with sign resembling an enormous spoon. According to Damaris it wasn't far from the hotel, but while Fino was expecting to find a saloon, it turned out to be a respectable establishment with a clean, inviting façade and an equally comfortable interior. The chairs and tables were placed in an orderly arrangement. With late afternoon approaching, seats around the fifteen or so tables were beginning to fill, but it didn't take long to find Quincy sitting near one of the windows facing the street. She noticed a burly man in shabby clothes sitting with him, and there was Sticky eating a meal.

Quincy had had his back to her, so when Sticky and the burly man stopped to regard her, he turned and his eyes went wide with astonishment. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came. Fino wanted to laugh. She knew he'd be amazed.

"When I said you were stronger than I gave you credit for, I underestimated you," Quincy said, still gaping at her. "Are you sure you're well enough to move?"

Fino was acutely aware of the pain in her ribs, but she smiled. "Of course."

He looked skeptical, but said nothing of it.

Fino took a seat at the table with them, eyeing the burly man with curiosity. Quincy noticed her reaction and said, "This is Lobo, a friend of mine. When we went searching for you, he was the one who found you on the slope. Without him, I may not have found you."

"I thank you," Fino said gratefully to Lobo, bowing her head. "I wouldn't have been able to make it on my own."

Lobo grinned at her, glanced at Quincy, and then landed a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Like the boss said, you're a tough girl. A pretty one, too!"

There was an awkward pause, and an unspoken message passed between Lobo and Quincy, the latter giving the big man a burning glare. Lobo looked guilty, but kept his grin.

"In any case," Quincy began, turning to Fino, "if you're feeling as well as you say, then we can leave as soon as tomorrow morning."

Fino was elated. _But_ _I wish we could leave tonight._ She felt he wasn't convinced of her recovery, but leaving in the morning was the logical choice considering the current hour.

"Silver Ridge is a few days' travel from here by stagecoach," Quincy said. He gestured to Lobo, and the big man pulled out a roll of paper the size of Fino's forearm, handing it to the bounty hunter. Quincy spread it out on the table. It was a map, well-used and in a sad state of creases, tears, and stains. "We're here," he said, pointing at a black dot at the edge of what looked like a valley between two mountain ranges, "and Silver Ridge is here." The dot was located west of Murdoch, near a squiggly line interpreted as a river. North of the dot was another set of mountains, the same ones that were part of the ranges on either side of Murdoch's valley. When she studied the map, she knew they wouldn't be able to travel in a straight path to the west. They'd have to travel south and then west with the curve of the valley.

"I grew up in this area," Quincy said as he looked at the map. His finger tapped another spot in the valley between Murdoch and Silver Ridge. "The stagecoach runs on a road that goes from Murdoch to Silver Ridge, with a station at about halfway. But the road's been a problem with bandits. It used to be my hunting grounds until I caught wind of Shade's whereabouts."

"Do you think the Black Eagles will try something?" Fino asked. She watched as Sticky chewed his food, her stomach beginning to grumble. The boy wasn't eating any meat, so that gave her hope that there would be something edible for her to order.

"No," replied Quincy. "They want to lay low. The easiest way to get to Silver Ridge, however, would be through the valley, not the mountains. They'll be hauling a wagon to pull whatever bank safe they find so they can take it back to their camp to break open."

"That girl who was with them—Tony—said that was her job."

"A girl?"

Fino nodded.

"Ah, yes, I remember her," Quincy said as he touched his chin. "Blond girl. Very pretty."

Fino could've rolled her eyes so far back into her head they would've gotten stuck.

Quincy watched her with interest for a moment and then continued. "What I'm trying to say is we'll have to be careful on our way to Silver Ridge. I don't want to be wasting bullets on petty thieves. There aren't any towns on the way there, so we'll either have to camp or…" He trailed off, a conflicted look coming over him.

When he took so long in finishing, Fino said, "Or what? I don't see any other options."

The bounty hunter sighed. "There is one place we could stay, but I'd rather not. My family...lives out there."

"Oh?" Fino said, surprised. "You mean their place is the only place to go if we can't camp outside?"

Quincy hemmed and hawed. "Y…Yes. They run the stage station."

"Then that's good. It'd be safer to stay there than risk running into bandits."

"Well…"

"Would you spit it out already?" She heard Lobo snicker as he covered his mouth. The man had been polite by remaining quiet up until now, but he was bursting at the seams to say something.

Quincy seemed to deflate. "They don't exactly approve of my profession, and I don't like reminding them."

Here again was the man Fino witnessed the night before entering the outlaw camp. She found it peculiar that he would be open and honest about his reasons when he could've just lied. They weren't friends and he was under no obligation to tell her anything about his relationship with his family.

Remembering her condition, she said, "But can you do it for at least one night? Would they allow that?" Even with her determination, it wouldn't be good to push herself too hard, and traveling might do just that. She needed her strength to be mostly restored when they confronted the outlaws at the bank.

The bounty hunter leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. "Fino, tell me. Among your people, do you ever just stay for one night when you visit relatives?"

Fino chuckled knowingly. "No."

"I can tell you that whites are often not much different. At least for my family, it's not courteous to use their home for a mere pit stop if you're a relative. They'd expect a social visit as well, and I haven't seen my parents in over a year."

Fino's shoulders drooped. "I suppose you're right." In a lower voice she added, "After what happened to me the other night, I just thought…"

He heaved a deep sigh of resignation and ran a hand over his face. "I _guess_ I could arrange something. Perhaps if they heard my storythey'd concede to an overnight stay."

He'd said it grudgingly, and Fino felt somewhat ashamed for it. "But you said you didn't want to, and you don't have to. Don't do it on my account."

Quincy again looked over her condition. "No. You're right. If you want to be part of this, you'll need to be at your best, and forcing you to push yourself because of my discomfort isn't fair."

"B-but I told you I was fine."

"Are you?"

"Yes!"

Quincy paused. "Indeed you are." He stood from the table and replaced his black hat. "I'm delaying our departure a few more days."

Fino shot up from her seat. "What?!" The movement pained her, making her grasp her side. Other patrons had been startled by the outburst and rewarded her with wary stares.

Quincy shook his head. "That's what I thought. But I still give you credit for trying."

Biting back her retort, Fino watched him leave. When he was gone, she looked at Sticky and Lobo. "I'm fine!"

Lobo grinned. "You'll have to forgive the boss. He's a bit of a softie."

She glanced back at where the bounty hunter had left. "Is he doing this because he thinks what happened to me was his fault?"

"He might."

"Well, it isn't. _I_ decided to go back, so what happened to me was my fault. I wasn't alert when Shade ambushed me." _If only I'd been this truthful with Alternate. Otherwise I wouldn't be here now, fighting to get him back._ Or would she? Had she apologized that night, would Alternate have still left? She wanted to believe he wouldn't have.

Lobo shrugged, that shameless grin seeming forever plastered on his unshaven face. Fino noticed he had a few missing teeth. The others weren't doing so well. "He was worried about you," he said. "He tried to find a doctor before the doctors were in!"

Fino's eyebrows went up. _Was I that bad?_

"He likes you," Lobo said with certainty, a glint in his eyes.

"Does he?"

The big man nodded. "He wouldn't leave that room until you woke up."

Sticky concurred with his cheeks stuffed with food, looking up at Fino with admiration. She supposed he liked her, too.

"I guess if he went through all that trouble for me, then I owe it to him to give him some peace of mind," Fino concluded, but not without reluctance. The fact that Quincy stayed by her bedside until she awoke…. She was beginning to think he wasn't the person she thought he was.


	19. Chapter 19

The glow of dawn touched the haze of rain that stretched toward the earth, creating a veil of gold spanning a mile or more in the distance. The charcoal gray clouds above were dark in contrast, but the warm light penetrating the curtain infused the land with a gentle radiance rarely seen in the harsh desert.

Droplets began to patter the ground, and the dry streets of Murdoch became speckled with rain. The veil that had seemed far in the distance swept over the town, dousing the citizens who hadn't anticipated the cloudburst. In little time the streets became slick with mud, and there were murmurs about flash flooding. People cleared off the streets, into buildings and under awnings. Men slapped the excess water from their hats, and women lifted their skirts to the verge of scandal so the hems wouldn't be sullied.

Fino reached out her hand to feel the streams of water pouring off the awning in front of the hotel. She hadn't seen rain like this quite some time. As thankful as she was for the respite from the heat, this would probably slow their journey to Silver Ridge. Quincy had been talking about taking a stagecoach since Fino had lost her horse, but she had seen such vehicles become stranded on roads during heavy rainstorms when roads turned to rivers of sludge.

The air had become thick and muggy, and the wet, earthy aroma of fresh rain filled her senses. It always did feel to Fino like the world was being cleansed of the grime of life whenever a storm passed, taking with it all the woes and despair humans breathed into the air. Each new breath she took felt like a renewal.

She stood there for a time, listening to the soothing sound of the storm battering the streets and drumming against the buildings. In the east the clouds began to thin, but there wasn't any sign of blue sky just yet. Once the sunlit shafts of day reached town, the moment would be truly glorious. For now, Fino chose to enjoy the coolness of the rain.

"Wasn't expecting this," she heard Quincy say behind her. He was dressed in his usual black attire and carried in one hand the long case that held his rifle. The rest of his belongings were already packed in his room. The stagecoach wasn't set to arrive for another few hours.

Fino noted the rifle case. He'd been carrying it around all morning, seeming to refuse to part with it. Usually he left it in his room, but now he wouldn't let it out of his sight. She suspected something might be wrong, but figured he would've told her if it was important.

"Maybe it'll stop before the stagecoach gets here," she offered. "There's a break in the clouds over there—"

There was a flash of lightning, and thunder crashed overhead. Startled, Fino stepped back under the awning toward the door. Quincy chuckled.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of thunder," he said with a grin.

Fino scoffed. "Of course not." She glanced back at the wet streets. "It's lightning we should be afraid of."

"And floods. That aside, we may not get out of town as soon as we would like."

"We can't always wait for everything to be perfect," Fino pointed out. "I say we leave anyway."

"It may not be up to us. Depending on the conditions, the stage drivers might decide to delay as well."

Fino had only ridden a stagecoach a few times and didn't know much about how they operated, so she had to take Quincy's word for it. _I must be cursed to have all this misfortune heaped on me._ It was almost as if someone or something was trying to prevent her from leaving. _Please, spirits, don't do this to me._

"But I'll have a word with the drivers once they get here," said Quincy. He sighed, a sign of displeasure crossing over his face. In a lower voice he added, "Now I wish I hadn't sent Sticky and Lobo ahead of us." He'd done so a few days ago.

"This bothers you?" asked Fino.

"They are important assets to my mission here. I would have them all together instead of fragmented and inaccessible."

 _I guess that makes me an asset, too._ But Fino had chosen to remain an asset long after her intended use had expired. However, Quincy was also an asset to her. She not only wanted to remain with him, but she needed to. _I need to see this whole thing through to the end._

"But they will be my eyes in Silver Ridge until we arrive," Quincy added. "I told them to watch the bank until we get there."

Fino hoped the rain wouldn't stall them. Out of habit, her hand came to rest on the Zodiac Gun at her hip. She fingered the saucer-shaped portion as she thought. Since awakening from her coma, she'd been running through memories of her conversations with Alternate at the outlaw camp. Something had been bothering her. Caught up in her jealousy over Tony, Fino hadn't taken the time to think over what Alternate had said. He'd indicated that his intentions were different than what Fino believed, and knowing Alternate she felt it wouldn't be unusual if he had something up his sleeve. But what could be so important that he'd chosen to shun her to avoid revealing it? Did Tony even know what it was?

"You know, I've been meaning to ask you about that," said Quincy. He was leaning against the doorframe as he watched her.

"Ask me what?" When she saw him glance at her gun, she placed her hand over it. "This? It's just a gun."

"I haven't seen you use it."

"So what? It's not like I have anything to shoot at." She nodded at the case. "Like you."

"Didn't you think to use it on Shade?"

"I didn't have time. He was one me before I could do anything."

"It's unusual. I knew someone who would've loved to get her hands on it."

Fino paused. "Wait. Was it someone who loved exotic guns?"

Quincy's brows went up. "How'd you figure?"

"I knew someone like that, too. Her name was Benkate."

The bounty hunter barked out a laugh. "So she already tried?"

"She never tried to steal it from me, but I knew she secretly wanted to." Fino could tell whenever the gunslinger sat staring at the Zodiac Gun, nearly drooling in a daze.

"When was this?" Quincy asked with interest.

"Some months ago. I haven't seen her since."

"So she's still out there," Quincy said, seeming far away in memory as he gazed out at the street. "She was the only one who got away." He saw Fino looking at him inquisitively, and he blushed lightly. Scratching behind his ear, he added, "Mostly because I let her go. She manipulated me, but I think under all those guns she was packing she really did like me."

Fino didn't think Benkate liked anything but rare guns. "Doesn't surprise me," she muttered. "What about you? You have an unusual gun, too." She'd only seen the rifle a few times as it seemed Quincy guarded it closely. But not like this morning. "Did she try to steal it from you?"

"She did a few times." He smiled at the memories and jiggled the case. "It's custom-made, after all. There's no other rifle like it."

"Seems it even makes Shade uneasy."

Quincy's smile turned sinister. "It should."

There was another rumble of thunder, and the rain continued to drench Murdoch. Streams of water began carving down the sides of the street, warning of an oncoming flood. Fino was about to mention this danger to Quincy when she was pulled back into the doorway.

She was guided into the lobby near the empty front desk. "What's your problem, Quincy?" she asked irritably, prying his hands off her collar. But his hands returned to plant themselves on her shoulders, turning her to face him. She was close enough to him that she could smell his flowery cologne.

"I thought about leaving you out there, but I figured it wouldn't be a good idea for him to see you," he whispered.

"Who?" Fino asked. She tried to look over her shoulder. "Shade?"

"No."

Fino slowly processed his words. "Do you mean…? Did you see Alternate just now?" Her heart started hammering. "What would he be doing _here_?"

"Any reason, really. Good ones. But you don't have much of a reason."

"Of course I do. Shade beat me up, and I'm here recovering."

"Would he know that?"

Fino pointed at the bruises on her face. "You think he wouldn't believe me?"

Quincy narrowed an eye as he considered her question, but said, "Whether he would or not doesn't matter to me. Just stay inside."

Fino looked to the gun case resting at his feet. "You knew he was around, and you didn't tell me."

"I didn't want you to get excited."

"Excited? What did you think I would do? Run out there to meet him? I'm not that stupid, Quincy."

Her words rang true and silenced the bounty hunter. He released her shoulders. "Okay. You're right. Even so, if he sees you, or meets with you, it could—"

"Jeopardize everything, I know," Fino finished. "You don't need to state the obvious. I won't let him see me." She meant the promise, but knowing Alternate was nearby did get her excited.

Quincy scrutinized her to gauge her honesty, which she found somewhat insulting considering how much she tried to be truthful with him. "I admit I did see him earlier this morning," he said. "I was a few streets over when I saw him coming with the girl and two horses."

"You mean Tony? Just the two of them?" Fino asked.

"Yes. But that doesn't mean there aren't more. A few of them know my face."

"Does Alternate?"

"No. Neither does the girl."

Fino found this relieving, but if Alternate or Tony happened to see her with Quincy, they might suspect he's the Preacher's Kid, especially if Shade told them his suspicions about her.

"I suggest we stay in our rooms until the stage comes," Quincy said. "That way we can minimize our chances of contact with them."

He took up the gun case and left for his room after that. Fino rubbed her shoulders where he had grasped her, remembering the feel of his hands. He was strong, but he'd been gentle. She could imagine him holding his rifle with that strength, and squeezing the trigger with that same gentleness. Somehow Fino felt intrigued by this image.

She shook the thoughts from her mind and headed up the stairs to her room. The rain was still hissing against the building, but it had lightened.

Fino's room offered a view of the street below, something she was thankful for. She closed her door and went straight for the window, pressing against the glass as she tried to see down one end of the street, and then the other. The road here hadn't flooded as she feared it would, and the streams had diminished. The thunder had become faint, and at last she could see a patch of blue sky in the distance.

She hoped to see Alternate, even if she could do nothing. She told Quincy she'd stay inside. But as she sat there by the window, watching through the streaks of rainwater, trying to make out the faces of people down below, an idea came to her. It was absurd, really, and she couldn't put it into action without leaving the hotel. She just couldn't deny her longing to see Alternate again, and sitting here would drive her crazy.

 _What if he had come here looking for me? Shade had to have told him what he did to me, and Alternate would've been upset. Maybe he's been looking for me this whole time?_ She wanted to believe that; that Alternate still cared about her, and wanted to see her again, wanted to know she was okay. If he saw what Shade had done to her, would he reconsider his place in the gang? Maybe even now he had decided to leave them.

 _But why would Tony be with him?_ Fino didn't know the safe cracker well enough to figure whether Tony would leave the gang with Alternate, but her presence indicated that he probably hasn't quit the outlaws.

_I still have a chance. If he's here, I may still be able to convince him to come home with me._

It was completely out of the question. She could not leave.

But what if it wasn't her fault? What if she ran into him on "accident"?

Fino left her room, taking the Zodiac Gun along. She stopped by Quincy's door, and as her hand was lifted to knock, she stopped short. There was no excuse to go out, and she couldn't lie—no, she refused to lie. She stood there with her hand hovering over the door, sorting through every excuse she could come up with, all of them good and all of them a lie.

Her hand dropped to her side. Did Quincy need to know? But what if he came to her room and found her gone? What excuse could she give then?

 _I'll take some money and buy something at the general store, anything_. If she came back and found he'd been looking for her, she'd have something to show for her absence. She could stand the scolding.

Going back to her room, Fino retrieved the few coins she had left. Interestingly, Shade hadn't bothered to rob her and left her money untouched. So much for being a thieving outlaw.

The rain had reduced to a light drizzle. The streams were gone, but the road was still muddy and unnavigable in some places. Those people who dared to venture out into the street had mud caked against their shoes. Most of the brave souls were men, but a few women showed their steel this day.

Fino stayed on the boardwalk, stepping carefully in those intermittent places where the boardwalk stopped between blocks. She moved toward the general store, but kept an eye out for Alternate. For all she knew, he probably wasn't on this street anymore, but she had to try.

She went into the general store and purchased some candy. Candy! Fino didn't even like candy. But she had so little money that she could afford little else.

Would she tell Quincy she had a sweet tooth? How ridiculous. She could already hear his teasing, but it was an excuse, and it was good enough for her.

Clutching the candy, Fino took her time going back toward the hotel. Wagons rolled down the road with muck sticking to the wheels. It made her wonder about the stagecoach.

Fino passed by the hotel, ambling over the boardwalk and watching the citizens navigate the street. The drizzle faded, and the sun at last blessed the town with its light. Sparkling drops fell from the roofs, and the new warmth made the street steam. The sky was a gorgeous bright blue between the dark clouds.

For the moment, Fino forgot about Alternate. The world felt new and fresh, and she took in the wet scents, savoring it, even if it didn't smell anything like the forest or prairie after a storm. White peoples' towns had a different smell, some of it pleasant and some of it unpleasant, but not unlike her village. In her village there were trash pits and places where people defecated. Horses and dogs had waste, too, and it wasn't like people bathed every day. This place wasn't that much different. It was the smell of humanity.

Fino remembered then that she was alive. The world was alive, and it was beautiful to behold. Across the desert, flowers would bloom in a sparse carpet, turning their colorful heads toward the life-giving sun. Puddles and springs would shimmer across the valley, and the earth would eagerly drink them up to store the precious moisture beneath the surface, sustaining the meager vegetation.

 _I could've died the other day._ She believed in an afterlife, but this world was different. There were blessings to be had in this world that might not be in the next, and now was the time to enjoy them.

 _And I'm alive now because of Quincy._ He'd cared enough to go find her, and from what Lobo told her, it wasn't just because she might have the information he needed. The bounty hunter had actually been worried.

Any thanks owed to Quincy would most likely be paid in money, but Fino didn't have much. When Alternate had saved her life, she made him a shirt, passing it off as a necessity after his old shirt had been ruined. She didn't have enough money or any valuable trade items to buy anything like cloth to make clothing with.

She remembered the candy in her hand. It was a peppermint stick according to the store clerk. The man had given a strange look before handing it to her, and warned that it wasn't good for her teeth. Fino hadn't planned on eating it in the first place.

Piano music drifted over from a saloon across the street. The hitching posts were full of horses, probably from people seeking to escape the storm. Her thoughts returned to Alternate. Would he and Tony have taken refuge in a place like that? Drawn to the idea, Fino stepped off the boardwalk—and regretted it. Her foot sank into a deep puddle. She could feel the soft mud at the bottom, and when she tried to pull out, her other foot slipped on the boards and she came down on her butt on the boardwalk. She pulled her foot out and peeled off the sopping wet moccasin. The piano music teased her from across the road. There wasn't a safe way to cross without getting her feet wet and dirty. She didn't want to have to take the time to bathe before leaving on the stagecoach.

She stared at the saloon. _What I am doing here? This was a stupid plan to begin with._ With one naked foot, Fino stood up and turned away. Her plan was to go back to the hotel to clean up and wait for the stagecoach, but she halted when a peal of laughter caught her attention. It was a woman's laugh, and a familiar one. Two people exited the saloon across the street. Fino froze.

Alternate and Tony stood in front of the saloon, looking as if they'd had a grand time. They were smiling at each other warmly, and Tony nudged Alternate with her elbow at something he said. Under their arms were bundles, probably slickers to protect them from the rain. It was then that Fino noticed Alternate's horse at the hitching post, a dappled gray. She kicked herself for not noticing it before, but anyone could own a horse like that.

The jealousy needled its way back into Fino's heart. _Alternate didn't come looking for me_ , she realized with chagrin. _He has no idea I'm here!_ He believes she went home like he'd commanded her. _Like a kicked dog that's been scolded by its master_. _You should know me better than that. I'm not giving up on this!_

She had to follow the plan. Replacing the wet moccasin, she half turned so it would appear she hadn't seen them. On impulse she brought up the candy stick to give herself something to look at. Her heart dropped. The stick was broken in half. It must've snapped when she fell, as it had been in her hand the whole time.

"Ugh!" She brought her hands to her face. Would any good luck some this day?

After cursing her circumstances (which would not help her luck at all), Fino straightened and began to stroll back toward the hotel at a slow pace. She needed to give Alternate time to see her.

Her hopes began to fade as she saw the hotel come into view. She didn't want to, but she had to look back. The activity on the streets was returning to normal, but Alternate and Tony were missing. Wherever they had gone, it was obvious they didn't see her. Fino believed Alternate would've called out to her had he seen her.

Squinting, she tried to see the saloon. Alternate's horse was still at the hitching rail, yet neither he nor Tony were anywhere to be found. Did they go back inside? But they looked about ready to leave…

Suspicion prickled the hairs on Fino's neck. She was being watched. Her instinct was to go back to the hotel, but she resisted. If someone was following her, then she'd lead them right back to the hotel, and therefore to Quincy.

As she drew near to the hotel, there was Quincy's black horse hitched out front. The bounty hunter was absent to Fino's relief, but he could return at any moment. It worried her to think he might be looking for her, but the stagecoach wasn't set to arrive for a while longer.

Her heart was pounding as she passed by the open lobby. She glanced inside but didn't see Quincy. Letting out slow sigh, she moved beyond the hotel in the direction of the general store. All her senses told her she was being followed, but by whom she couldn't be certain. She hoped it was Alternate, but it might also be Quincy trying to see what she was up to. No, that man would've confronted her by now.

Next to the hotel was the livery where Quincy's horse had been put. She opened the doors and went inside, leaving the door slightly ajar. The pungent smell of hay and manure assaulted her nose. She was alone, except for the horses in their stalls. There were probably around fifteen stalls, but only about half of them were filled. The horses ignored her as she walked between the stalls. She stopped at a pinto that reminded her of Snow on the Earth, but the patches were black instead of brown. The horse had its back to her, leisurely eating hay.

There was the scrape of a foot over the threshold. Fino's pulse quickened and she felt her face flush. She wanted to reach out and touch the horse to appear preoccupied, but didn't want to startle it, so she remained still as she listened.

The footsteps were soft. She felt a presence behind her, and there was a long pause.

"What are you doing here, Fino?"

He sounded peeved, demanding an answer. Fino was almost too afraid to turn around. It made her feel ashamed at her own cowardice.

She whipped about, her eyes going wide in mock surprise. "Alternate! What are _you_ doing here?!"

Her turn had been too late. He wasn't convinced of her act. His eyes were narrowed. "I asked you first."

"I—I'm here because—because I was ambushed a few days ago and was injured. Is that so wrong? I didn't know you'dbe in town."

Alternate's annoyance instantly dissipated. He glanced at the horse behind her and said, "That's not your horse."

"Shade killed him."

Alternate shook his head as he understood something. "That carcass I saw on the side of the trail… I thought it looked like your horse, but I wasn't sure."

He cupped her chin and moved her head from side to side, examining the marks on her face. Her face felt hotter at his touch, and she wondered if he could feel it.

Before she could react, he grabbed her in a hug, putting his lips down near her ear. "I'm so glad you're okay. Shade could've killed you. If he had, I would've—"

"I'm okay. I got help," Fino said, wincing at the pain in her ribs. She was much shorter than him, her head just reaching his chest. His heart throbbed against her ear. He smelled of damp, rain-soaked clothes and old sweat. Fino should've been able to enjoy his embrace, but she kept thinking about how he needed a bath.

"So you've been here this whole time?" Alternate asked.

"Shade hit me pretty hard. I was out for two days."

He pulled away and squeezed her shoulders. He was furious. "I'll pay him back for what he did to you. No one hurts my friends and gets away with it!"

"But what about the rest of the gang?"

Alternate looked suddenly conflicted at her question. "Well, they… I mean…"

Fino pointed at the bruises on her face. "Those people are no good. It's not worth it to stay with them!" Her eyes were pleading. " _Please,_ come back to my village with me. I don't want to keep looking for Blush alone. You're…" She hesitated, her heart racing. She was so hot she was beginning to sweat. "Y-you're the best friend I've ever had. I… I was really hurt when you left. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. I just couldn't understand why you would go running with outlaws. After all we've been through together. Don't I matter to you?"

Alternate swallowed, seeming uncomfortable with her words, but his hands never left her shoulders. She wasn't sure, but she thought his hands trembled faintly. Tongue-tied, he could only stare at her.

When he at last found his voice, he sounded strained. "Fino, what are trying to say?"

This was quite possibly one of the most pivotal moments in Fino's life. She could lose so much by answering that question, and yet gain everything. It was as if her whole world hinged on Alternate's reaction. She had to ask herself again if his response would change her mind about this mission, if she would leave him to his fate should her feelings be unrequited, or if she would forge ahead and do what she believed with all her might was right.

But she had to take the chance while it was here. There may not be another.

"I'm trying to say I c…" _No, you have to say it the way it really is._ She lifted her eyes to meet his. Her mouth was dry when she said it. "Alternate, I'm saying I love you."

Her nerves went into overdrive, and her legs felt like they might collapse. The stillness between them made it seem like the world had stopped, but in reality Alternate was so stunned by this confession he was rendered immobile. The silence between them stretched.

Fino dropped her gaze to stare at a button on his shirt. The fact that he hadn't said anything told her everything.


	20. Chapter 20

It seemed like several minutes before Alternate could move again. He turned away from Fino and walked to a crate in front of the next stall. He plopped down on the crate with a thump, eliciting a sharp squeak from the stressed wood.

Fino stood wringing her hands, looking as if she'd had to tell someone some terrible truth. Tears had begun to well in her eyes, but with great restraint she was able to prevent them from falling. Shame marred her features.

Alternate chuckled bitterly as he sat. Out of habit, he pulled off his monocle and began cleaning the lens. He sometimes did that when feeling exceptionally nervous or awkward, but this cocktail of emotions he felt now was indescribable. The situation was so ironic he wasn't sure he should be angry or amused.

"I never thought you'd feel that way," he said in a low voice. He replaced his monocle and stared at the scattered straw on the livery floor. "I just thought it was impossible."

"What do you mean?" Fino asked. She shuffled to stand next to him. "I don't understand."

"I waited for you." He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs as he remembered. "I realized how I felt not long after we beat the Syndicate. For the first time in years, I wasn't alone anymore. But it just seemed like you didn't feel the same way. Then people in the village started giving me strange looks. I think some of them knew, but I didn't get a good feeling from any of it. I felt unwelcome, as if I was overstepping my bounds."

Fino went to kneel in front of him, gazing at him with a mixture of pity and shock. She grasped his arms in a comforting gesture. "Are you meaning to tell me that you—that you wanted to be with me?"

Alternate met her gaze. "But I wanted to be sure before I said anything, because I was afraid it might ruin our friendship. When nothing seemed to be happening, I thought the feeling wasn't mutual."

"But you felt the same way." Fino had said it more to herself as a confirmation. She glanced off to the side, taking in this new revelation. Her hopes had been met, which made it all the more difficult for what Alternate had to say next.

"Fino, that was in the past," he said. He watched with sympathy as Fino's face fell. She shot up from the floor and backed up a few steps. "Things are different now."

It took her a moment to collect herself. "But that doesn't change what I've been telling you," she said with renewed determination. "I still want you to quit the Black Eagles and come back with me. It's not too late."

Alternate was impressed with her fast recovery, and had to admit Fino was one of the most amazing people he'd ever met. Even when getting her heart broken, and her hopes crushed, she always found the strength to stand up again. It always encouraged him to do the same, to find the power within to stand up again no matter how many times he was knocked down. It was what helped him to persist in his search for Blush. But now…

"Fino, you really don't understand what I'm trying to do here—"

"How can I know if you won't tell me?" she shot back. "I can't read your mind, Alternate." She'd steeled herself again, and any hint of her previous heartbreak was seemingly gone. This girl just didn't give up.

Alternate hadn't planned on telling Fino anything. He never figured she'd become involved, and so hadn't included her in his equations. She had thrown herself into his plans like a wild card, and neither his Plan B nor Plan C could be readily amended to accommodate her.

"There's a good reason why I didn't speak to you after I left," he said. "I told you before: I didn't want you to get involved because it's dangerous." He still wasn't getting through to her. What would it take to get her to understand that he just _couldn't_ tell her the real reason?

Fino narrowed her eyes at him. "Danger is nothing to me. You and I have been through the underworld together. What you didn't want me to do was mess up your plans."

The truth hit him like bullet to the chest. Of course that was the core reason, but it was just as true that he didn't want her to get hurt. The men in the gang were ruthless, and if it hadn't been for his intervention, Fino would probably be dead, even with the Zodiac Gun. If she could just wait awhile longer, she'd understand everything.

"Alternate, I'm not letting you leave here until you tell me the reason you joined the Black Eagles," Fino said. "If it isn't because you wanted to go back to your old life, then I want to know _why_."

He saw the fire behind her eyes. It was a warning that if he didn't tell the truth, that fire was going to burn him. _I can't lie to her. I shouldn't have hidden the truth from her in the first place._ He could see how much she was hurting. The bruises on her face stood as evidence of what she'd gone through, and it convinced him. How she felt was real. Somehow that knowledge reawakened the flame he thought was smothered long ago.

Alternate swallowed, carefully considering his words. "You have to promise not to say anything to anyone else. The only other person who knows is Tony."

Fino stole a glance at the door. She was wondering where Tony was. Alternate had told his partner that he wanted to follow Fino alone. Tony had appeared a little hurt, but didn't protest. The safecracker was the easiest person to work with, and for that Alternate was thankful. She trusted him, and stayed behind while he went on.

"I understand," said Fino. "I won't say anything. Friends are supposed to keep each other's secrets."

Alternate certainly hoped so. He sat up and rested his back against the wall behind him, staring up at the ceiling. "I went looking for my father."

Fino gave a start. "But your father is de—I mean Gordy was your father. You and Blush buried him near his mine. We know where his grave is."

"How do I explain this?" Alternate muttered under his breath. He looked at her. "When I was a kid, I heard rumors. I may not really remember my mother, but others did. People said she was a good person, but she had a wild streak. She was supposed to marry Gordy, the man I would call my father, but people said she had another man in her life." He reached into his pocket for the comb. The gold and silver glinted in the weak light. "Gordy made this for her as a gift."

"So who was this other man?" Fino asked.

Alternate closed his hand over the comb. "Holloway."

Fino's jaw dropped. "But those were just rumors! That doesn't mean Gordy wasn't really your father."

"I know it doesn't, but years ago, when I first saw Holloway, I could see a resemblance. I never asked either him or Gordy for answers, but I could never get it out of my mind that the man I always called 'Papa' probably wasn't the man who fathered me." He ran his thumb over the prongs of the comb. Despite his mother's disappearance, Gordy wasn't able to let go. Perhaps gold had been something he'd used as a distraction, to try and convince himself that it was more important than a woman. "When I decided to leave your tribe, I knew I was going to be alone again, so I sought out the only person I thought I could turn to."

Fino settled again on her knees in front of him and reached out for his hands. "Alternate, I—I want you to know that you can turn to me. Even if things can't be the way we wanted them to be, I'm still your friend."

Her words sounded hollow. _You wanted to be more than my friend, and you still do. You're not going to give up._ When he looked at her, he remembered how he had felt about her. She was pretty, with large dark eyes and a petite frame. She looked even better with her hair down, the glistening locks reminding him of the color of dark, wet earth after a storm. Once he saw her don a ceremonial dress for a special event, and he believed he had never seen her so beautiful, the tiny seed beads shimmering in the sun and the long leather fringes swaying from the sleeves.

She was known for being stern, and sometimes downright brutal, but when she smiled it was like a gift from the heavens. Alternate had had the privilege of seeing that smile on several occasions, sometimes directed at him. The shape of her lips had captured his imagination, which often wandered toward more intimate thoughts. And Fino was a fighter with an indomitable spirit. She fought fiercely, and he knew she would love fiercely.

 _If only._ If only they had each realized how they felt for each other at the same time. But there was nothing he could do about it now. He was too far in at this point. The best he could do was to protect her from the Black Eagles.

"Thank you, Fino," he said softly. "I'm sorry I doubted you. But…will you go home now? I don't want you getting mixed up in this."

"I still think it's a bad idea what you're doing," Fino replied. "That you believe Holloway is your real father is a silly reason to me that you would join an outlaw gang just to be close to him. Does he know?"

"Not yet. I plan on talking to him about it eventually."

"You mean after you rob the bank?"

Alternate paused and examined her closely. "That reminds me. There was another reason why I followed you here."

She visibly stiffened. "What? Why?"

"Shade told me about how he ambushed you. I didn't believe him when he said you were working with the Preacher's Kid."

Fino calmed and masked her expression. "He accused me of that. Do you really think I'd work against you like that? The Preacher's Kid is a bounty hunter who will only have you hang. I don't want that for you."

"Then why won't you go home?"

"I told you already. I'm trying to heal so I can be well enough to travel."

"Who helped you?"

Fino closed her mouth, and he knew she was trying to come up with an answer. Alternate had always believed that one of her weaknesses was that she was too honest. For as long as he'd known her, she'd never told a lie.

"Some riders found me," she said. "They put me up in a hotel."

"What were their names?"

"Are you doubting me again?"

Now it was Alternate's turn to shut his mouth. "S-Sorry. I was—I'm thankful for those people who helped you." He looked around at the stalls again. "But how are you going to get home? You don't have a horse."

Fino tried to reply but the words never formed. That girl, she didn't even think about how she was going to make it home?

Alternate stood up from the crate. He felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but he still felt horribly guilty for dashing Fino's hopes, and in another way dashing his own.

 _But maybe this doesn't have to be the end. Maybe there's still a chance._ He was surprised with himself for thinking that. "Listen, I'll give you my horse."

Fino gaped. "But what about you?"

"I can always get another one."

She gave him a peculiar look, and he knew what she was thinking. He would buy a horse with stolen money. But she said nothing of it.

They left the livery together and Alternate led her back to the saloon. Tony had kept out of sight, and he had no idea where she could be, but knew she had to be watching. Her horse, a palomino, stood next to Alternate's dappled gray.

Fino was slow in taking the reins from his hand. "You don't have to do this for me…"

"I want to," he replied. "I want you to get home safely. If you make Shade angry again, he'll do more than beat you next time. He's dangerous and he has a sick mind."

Fino had such pain in her eyes that stabbed at him, but he had to send her away. "This isn't over, Fino," he said gently. "I _promise_ I'll see you again. You just have to wait. You'll be glad you did. Please, trust me."

Squeezing the reins, she nodded, and the pain seemed to ebb from her expression. "I—I do trust you. But please be careful. I don't want to lose you. I've lost enough precious people in my life. Don't be another."

"I won't be," he said. He puffed out his chest and gave her a smug grin. "You know me. I don't give up that easily."

This produced a smile from her lips, that wonderful smile he loved so much. He memorized its curve, so that perhaps he could see it in his dreams. He wanted to see that smile again when he returned for her.

He reached out and touched her cheek and felt the warmth there, and it was probably not from the heat of the sun. Her hand came up and covered his. His heartbeat quickened, and he knew he was blushing, the same as her. The flame had been revived.

Fino walked away with the horse. She hadn't gone far before she stopped in front of a hotel and put the horse at the hitching rail. Alternate noted the big black horse at the same rail, along with a mule and another nondescript horse. A stagecoach was parked in front, unloading passengers and luggage. Fino halted momentarily to regard the stagecoach, and then she went inside the hotel with haste.

A hand rested on his shoulder. "Everything okay?" Tony asked. She'd come out of the saloon. "Is Fino all right?"

"Shade could've killed her," Alternate replied, eyeing the stagecoach and horses. "She's lucky to be alive."

"Is that why she's here?"

"Yes. Or so she claims."

"Doesn't sound like you believe her."

Alternate said nothing. At this point, he wasn't sure.

"That's a beautiful horse," Tony noted, referring to the black steed in front of the hotel. "That's the kind of horse Holloway would like."

Alternate focused on the horse. _A beast black as midnight, whose master wields the golden Lead Messenger._ Holloway had told him that. It could be a simple coincidence, and he hoped that was the case, but some sneaking suspicion wriggled its way into his soul like a foul worm.

Tony could read his creased brow. She knew the stories. "That horse seems familiar, doesn't it?"

"I think we better get out of town while we can."

"But we're not done—"

"Holloway will understand."

Tony hesitated, and then nodded. "I think you're right. Let's go."

 

* * *

 

Quincy hadn't noticed anything amiss until he saw Fino come hurrying up the stairs in the hotel. He stopped halfway down, and she halted when she spotted him. They stood there for a few moments in surprise, Fino looking like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"And here I thought you were in your room this whole time," Quincy said, crossing his arms. "Where did you run off to?"

The girl's mouth worked to form words, and then she seemed to suddenly remember something. Reaching into an inner pocket of her dress, she pulled out a broken piece of candy. Its white and red stripes indicated it was peppermint. Quincy frowned at it.

"You went out for candy?" he asked. "I didn't know you had a taste for it."

"I don't," Fino replied, a flush coming to her cheeks. As if unsure of herself, she slowly approached him on the stairs, her hand out with the candy resting in her palm. The words tumbled out of her mouth. "I-I never got the chance to thank you properly for saving my life."

Quincy grinned, and the laughter bubbled up before he could stop it. He could hear in his mind Lobo laughing with him. Fino pulled the candy away. Quincy waved a hand at her in assurance. "It's fine, it's fine," he said. He took her hand and opened it. He put one piece between his teeth and tucked the other away in his jacket. "Thanks. I haven't had any in a while. Mother always said it'd rot my teeth out, but once in a great while is all right. Luckily for me, good breeding gave me good teeth."

Fino looked relieved. He hadn't been laughing at her in derision.

"But is that all you went out for?" he asked, leaning forward with his hands on his hips.

The girl stroked one of her sheathed pigtails. The answer was obvious, but she wasn't saying it.

"Did you see him?"

She nodded.

"Did you talk to him?"

Her eyes went down, and she nodded again, weakly.

Quincy pulled the candy out of his mouth. "You're about as difficult to break as a wild stallion. I hope you didn't say too much."

Fino's eyes flashed. "I didn't! He asked me questions, but I didn't say anything revealing."

"That so?"

"That's right."

"What did he say to you?"

"I can't tell you that. I promised I wouldn't. But it has nothing to do with the robbery anyway."

"Good to know," Quincy mumbled. He spied the stagecoach outside.

"I just wanted to put his mind at ease that I was okay," Fino added. "He gave me his horse, too. He thinks I'm going home now."

"Excellent. Then he saved me the trouble of buying you a horse. Good kid."

Fino started to fume. "What do you mean, saving you the trouble? Are you saying I'm trouble to you?"

Quincy threw her a playful smirk. "More than you know."


	21. Chapter 21

It was obvious something was bothering Fino. She sat with her elbow resting on the edge of the window as she contemplated the passing landscape. Her brow was creased, and every so often her lips would move wordlessly.

Quincy cast furtive glances, but she was so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn't even looked at him for a solid thirty minutes. Their conversation ceased not long into the ride, and they'd been on the road for at least an hour.

The stagecoach rolled along, pulled by a team of four horses at a fast gallop. Quincy's black horse and Fino's new dappled gray were guided alongside. The going was a bit rough. Quincy and Fino were the only two passengers, but what with the mail bags stacked at their feet and against walls beside them one would've thought ten people were along for the ride. Luckily, neither of the two passengers carried much, and their luggage was stored on the roof.

The coach driver and his shotgun guard had been grim, tight-lipped men who said little to their passengers. It didn't bother Quincy, though. He didn't feel like chatting with strangers today, and he needed time to think.

From the moment he saw Alternate and Tony in Murdoch, he knew something was wrong. It wouldn't be unusual for the outlaws to want to visit a town, either to load up on supplies or have a round of drinks in a saloon to break the monotony of camp life. But Alternate or Tony didn't have any supplies when Quincy saw them on the streets. Fino said Alternate and his partner had some status in the gang, so he doubted Holloway would've allowed two of his closest members to go on a leisurely tour of Murdoch.

Quincy scratched at the stubble on his jaw. Of course, he could be wrong. However, the biggest reason he doubted was the bank. It was supposed to be in Silver Ridge, but the way it had been described with guards reminded Quincy more of a bank he knew in Murdoch. Murdoch was much closer to the outlaw camp than Silver Ridge, so it wouldn't make sense for the outlaws to be camped so far away when they could move. He wouldn't know anything for certain until he got to Silver Ridge.

A bump in the road jarred him from his thoughts, and he noticed Fino was looking at him. "You've been quiet," he said.

She blinked and looked down at her lap.

"Did you find the answers you were looking for?" Quincy asked.

"Yeah," she said, almost too low for him to hear. "He told me what I needed to know."

She fell silent again, and Quincy noted her slumped posture. She was hardly able to keep herself upright, and with every sway of the coach he worried she might fall over.

Whatever happened between her and her friend must've been devastating. A light had disappeared from her eyes, and her spirit, that fighting spirit, had deflated. It wasn't because she had given up. Otherwise she wouldn't have left Murdoch with him. Quincy knew this demeanor.

"Probably every human being on the planet experiences unrequited love at one point or another," he said, watching the passing scenery outside.

"It wasn't unrequited," Fino mumbled. She appeared annoyed that he had made that conclusion.

"Then you should be rejoicing, not looking like you're about to melt into your seat." He tried to inject encouragement and humor into his words, but it failed.

Fino's lips trembled. "We felt the same for each other at the same time. I just didn't realize it until after he gave up on me."

As far as Quincy could tell, this was unrequited love, if Alternate didn't feel the same way _now_ as he did _then_ , and Fino was only now realizing her feelings _._

He leaned back and rested an ankle over his knee. "I once loved a woman."

Fino lifted her head. Although her eyes were vacant, she was listening.

"It was a long time ago, but it still smarts to remember." He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a plain pocket watch encased in gold. He flipped open the lid. "She gave me this. Looking back on it, I was a fool for not making the sacrifice to be with her."

"Are you calling Alternate a fool?" Fino growled.

"Not really. That's not my point. I agonized over the breakup. I was young and foolish and I only cared about my…personal goals." He closed the watch's lid and replaced it in his pocket.

Fino's attention began to drift toward the window, so he had to get to the point. "She was the one who broke off our engagement. I spent a long time thinking I'd messed up and there was nothing left for me. But I met an old man who helped me see that it wasn't the end. He had been married five times, each to a wonderful woman and each woman he loved dearly. They all died, and when one died, he always found new love."

Fino listened quietly.

"I learned that one can have many loves in their lifetimes. I used to come from the school of thought that claimed God made each of us a special person, _one_ person." He fingered the watch's chain leading out of his pocket. "I know now that isn't true. We can meet many people, have many lovers or many spouses." He laughed to himself. "Although don't get me wrong, I prefer one at a time."

Quincy then sighed as he reflected on the past. "Then, later on, I met another girl. Too bad, because she thought I was a scoundrel and called me a murderer." He laughed again. "Quaker girls. Took me a while to get over that one, too."

"Why did you keep the watch?" Fino asked.

"To remind me," Quincy replied, patting his pocket. "Life keeps going, even when it disappoints us. We must keep going. We're here for a reason whether we think it's a divine calling or one we make ourselves. You just better make it a good reason."

This seemed to strike Fino somehow, and she looked down at the floor, her eyes darting about in rapid thought.

Quincy scratched behind his ear. "I, uh, don't know if…that will help you understand your situation better, but—"

"Something doesn't add up," Fino said suddenly.

"Were you even listening to me?"

"Of course! But Alternate told me his reason for joining Holloway—which I can't tell you, but I just can't understand any of it."

"How's that?"

Fino faltered. "I don't know. My gut is telling me he didn't tell me the whole truth."

"Your gut is telling you?" Quincy asked. He narrowed an eye.

"Alternate hasn't changed. He's still himself, so it doesn't make sense to me that he would want to rob a bank. Why would he put himself in such danger?"

"You're the one who spoke to him," Quincy replied. "Only you can find out."

"Are you _sure_ you can help him?" Fino asked.

"Absolutely. With Dawson's help, we can convince the judge."

Fino looked out the window again. "Good. Because I'm afraid Alternate might be getting himself into something much worse than I thought." She paused. "And, Quincy?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you, for your kind words."

He blinked at her in surprise as she smiled back at him. He rubbed the back of his ear again. "You're welcome. I was just passing on the encouragement I was given."

Her smile widened.

 

* * *

 

Fino must've been out for some time, because when she awoke there was darkness outside. She was still in the stagecoach, and the faint glow of a lantern held by one of the coachmen could be seen out her window. The horses had slowed.

"Are we going to travel all night, too?" she asked in wonderment. When she didn't receive an answer, she reached out her foot and found Quincy's. "Quincy?"

He jerked awake and groaned. "Must've slept like that…"

Fino could barely see him. "It's night."

"I know. They have to make it to the station. It's probably past midnight."

Fino was dying to stretch her legs after hours and hours of sitting. Her butt hurt and her bones felt as if they'd been shaken up in the sack of her body. By now she was starving. She'd run out of the nuts she carried in a pouch.

A bugle was blown, and the horses were commanded to a halt. The stage came to a slow and gentle stop. Fino looked out to see the lit windows of a low building. Lanterns hung from the roof above a covered porch. In the dark it was hard to tell how big the building was, but it was squat and only one story.

A man emerged from the central doorway. The lanterns cast shadows over his drawn, lined face. He appeared to be chewing something, his expression stern. He wore a pair of overalls over a gray shirt. His feet were clad in heavy boots that clunked over the wooden porch.

The doors of the stagecoach opened, and Fino moved to get out, glad for the relief. But she noticed how Quincy seemed to linger inside, not in any hurry to leave. When Fino looked at the man at the door, she suspected she knew why. The man's eyebrows rose when he saw her, and he shot a look back at the stagecoach, his lips parted.

The bounty hunter at last appeared. The driver and his guard were busy getting down the luggage from the coach, and as one of them lifted Quincy's gun case, the hunter snapped at them. "Careful with that one! Here, give it to me."

The driver scowled at him but complied. "You told me that once already."

Quincy took the case, but when he turned he saw the man at the station glaring at him.

"I see you still carry it," the man said with an even stare.

The bounty hunter stood motionless. As he was near to her, Fino heard him swallow.

"But you're welcome to stay here," the man said, glancing at Fino. "Just keep that gun out of sight. You know how your mother is about guns."

Quincy took the lead into the station. Fino caught a glimpse of his face. He'd set his jaw and hardened his gaze, as if bracing himself. She hoped there wasn't going to be a confrontation.

The interior of the station was fairly small. They were greeted by a long table with about eight sturdy looking chairs, four on each side of the table. On the back wall was a faded old couch that had probably at one time been a rich green color but had faded to a pale sage in the most worn areas. It reminded Fino of the couch at the hotel in Golden, the one with the springs that wanted to eat into her butt.

Along one wall were shelves with a scattering of mismatched dishware. Sealed jars lined the wall by the floor, some likely containing water or another drink, or perhaps stored dried goods. It was difficult to tell.

There were three doorways leading into other rooms, and the doors were closed, but Fino assumed they might lead to the kitchen or lodging for passengers. One of those doors probably led to station keeper's quarters.

The place was very clean. Despite the packed dirt floor, it was swept and free of debris. All the items on the table, the wall, and the floor were neatly arranged. The room seemed crude in some respects, but otherwise it was carefully maintained. The owners apparently cared about the impression made on customers.

As Fino was evaluating the room, she saw Quincy walk to a long chest fashioned as a bench near the couch. He lifted the lid and placed his gun case inside, and then added his revolvers. Fino followed to do the same with the Zodiac Gun at her hip. She also removed the tomahawk from her sash and placed it inside the chest.

The stage keeper watched them carefully, his deep-set brown eyes thoughtful. "The sleeping quarters are that way," he said, jerking his head to his left at one of the closed doors. "I'm assuming you'll be staying in your old room?" he added for Quincy.

Fino noted that even at his age, the stage owner still had quite a head of hair. It was almost white now, but it had the same wavy texture as Quincy's.

"I'll manage out here," Quincy said. "We only intend to stay the rest of the night and leave in the morning."

There was an awkward pause, and the old man's gaze slid over to settle on Fino. "What, did you go off and get yourself married? She's a bit young, don't you think? Your mother won't be pleased to hear that you didn't invite us to the wedding."

For the first time, Fino saw the bounty hunter flush bright red. She was certain she had blanched as pale as a white woman.

"No!" Quincy denied vehemently. "That's _not at all_ what happened!"

The old man sighed with disappointment. "And I'd been hoping that you'd finally settled down."

Quincy made a face like he wanted to spit.

"On the trail of some outlaw, are ya?" the man asked.

"We're heading for Silver Ridge on account of a bank robbery." Quincy turned to see the coachmen lining up the luggage just inside the door. "We need to get there fast."

The old man's face froze, showing the slightest sign of stunned amazement. He went quiet for a few moments before saying softly, "Silver Ridge, you say?"

"That's what I said," replied Quincy, leveling a stare at the keeper.

The corners of the old man's mouth drew down into a frown, pulling the wrinkles on his cheeks down with it. His face looked longer than before. A look of apprehension flitted briefly over his features. "I was afraid of that. And what's the girl got to do with it?"

"That's private business."

The old man didn't seem bothered by the statement, and his expression relaxed. "Even so, you'd better not leave without saying a word to your mother. She's been talking about you these last few days."

Quincy nodded somberly. "I'll be sure to do that."

"Then I'll let her know you're here." The keeper shuffled off.

When he was gone, Fino asked, "Was that your father?"

"Not much of a reunion, I suppose," Quincy grumbled, "but then I guess I can't blame him." He said nothing more of it and went to retrieve his luggage at the door.

Fino couldn't help but feel a little envious. Even though there had been tension between Quincy and his father, he had no idea how lucky he was to still have his parents. Fino's parents were long dead. What she wouldn't give to have them back...

 

* * *

 

The guest rooms were spacious, with six cots arranged in two rows, three on each side. The driver and his guard hadn't yet arrived, probably putting the horses in the corral.

Fino set her bag on a cot farthest from the door. A green woolen blanket had been provided, folded at the end of the cot, and a flat pillow at the head. Seemed the amenities here were the bare bones. Not that it mattered to her anyway. They were leaving first thing in the morning.

Oil lamps had been placed on two small tables between the cots, one of which was beside Fino's. When she settled down to bed she removed the wraps in her hair, turned down the light, and faced the wall, but she kept her ears open for when Quincy came in. He was probably outside doing the same as the coachmen, putting their horses away. He made no effort to stay quiet when he arrived. Fino heard his bags thump to the floor.

The cot he chose creaked as he sat down, followed by the familiar sound of boots sliding off feet. Fino turned a little to peer over her shoulder at him. There was an empty cot between them. For some reason she felt disappointed. Was he trying to keep his distance? No, he just chose the cot at random, that's all.

Fino rolled to her back and pretended to sleep. Even though she was exhausted, she kept listening to Quincy. Clothing rustled, the cot creaked again, and the blanket was unfurled. Soon after, the driver and his guard came in with low muttering and heavy footsteps. She caught something about one of the horses having an issue, but didn't get the rest of it.

She stole a glimpse of Quincy. He was on his side with his back to her, and he'd opted to go without his shirt. There was a scar that ran from between his shoulders to the top of his right shoulder. It had been deep and stitched back together. Fino thought of a blade, something similar to her tomahawk. Was it a battle scar from a fight with a wanted outlaw? Or was it from rescuing Sheriff Dawson's son from Indians?

It still bothered her to think about it. She found difficult to accept someone who had killed Indians, but Quincy's explanation had been one of self-defense, not hatred. Should he have taken the blow and died? Fino wouldn't have. No one would have, nor should anyone. _If another Indian came after me, I would defend myself like that._ It hadn't been right to judge Quincy so quickly. He had saved a boy's life, and was probably almost killed in the process.

She lost attention on the scar and found herself instead tracing the pleasing contours of his back, which moved in the rhythm of sleep. He'd tucked his arm under his head, and his hair was dark against his skin. In the gleam from the lamps near the coachmen, she could see that tint of auburn.

 

* * *

 

Alternate had trouble swallowing the lump in his throat. His palms were sweaty and he needed a drink of water.

Holloway stared at him from across the table. The big man stood leaning over with his palms flat on the table toward the back of the tent. Along the wall behind him were various crates of supplies and blankets for sleeping. The lantern beside him cast shadows over his chiseled features and caught the silver streaks in his hair. His blue eyes gleamed with latent anger. "Where is your horse, Alternate?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice.

Alternate and Tony had arrived a short while earlier, in the dead of night. The trip had been slow because he and Tony had to double up on her horse. Their arrival awakened the camp and caused a stir. They were back early, and Alternate knew the first thing people would notice was his missing horse. When Shade came out, Alternate could already hear his sneering accusations. _He'll know what happened. He doesn't even need to ask._

Then Holloway had called Alternate back in a private meeting in his shelter. Alternate was terrified. How would he explain his missing horse? Could he lie to this man? He couldn't say he gave the horse away to a needy person. No one just gives away a horse to a stranger. Should he claim he was attacked by horse thieves? Indians? Or that the horse was injured along the way and had to be put out of its misery?

He found he just couldn't lie. It would necessitate that Tony lie as well, to Holloway and everyone else. He wouldn't force her to do that with Holloway.

"I gave it to my friend," Alternate said in a weak voice. "She needed a horse."

"You _gave_ your horse away?" Holloway asked incredulously. There was a slight tremble in his jaw. "How do you expect to execute your plans without a horse? We have no extras to spare! And who is this 'she' you speak of?"

Alternate's mouth had gone so dry his tongue was beginning to stick to the roof of his mouth. He had given his horse to Fino and believed he could explain it away. How stupid!

"I'll get another one," he managed. "I'll go back to Murdoch and—"

"You should _still_ be in Murdoch!" Holloway nearly bellowed.

Alternate flinched. The man didn't usually raise his voice, but time and circumstance had become so critical that he'd been on edge. "I-I know, but I saw a black horse and…"

The outlaw leader lifted an eyebrow. "You saw a black horse?"

Alternate nodded vigorously. "I thought it might be the Preacher's Kid's."

Holloway lowered his head for a moment, and then looked up with renewed composure. "Anyone can own a black horse. It doesn't mean it belongs to the bounty hunter."

"I know that, but… The way you described it, I thought it looked just like his horse."

"Had I been there, I would've been able to tell," Holloway said gently, "but I wasn't. Now, who did you give your horse to?"

Alternate swallowed again. There was no way out. He couldn't lie and risk being exposed. It would give Shade more leverage. "I—I gave it to—Fino."

Holloway was surprised. His prominent eyebrows shot up. "That young girl who came to us looking for you?"

"Yes…"

"I thought she went home?"

"So did I. But she was there. She decided to…uh…stay in town for a while."

He could tell Holloway wasn't buying it. The man peered at him closely. "Was she with anyone?"

"She didn't say she was."

Holloway slowly straightened. Realization was dawning. "That girl should've gone home. She should not be anywhere near here. There is no reason for an Indian girl to be staying in a civilized town." He was beginning to echo Shade's suspicions.

Alternate would hardly call Murdoch 'civilized'. It was a dirty mining town, and from what he'd heard there were murders on a daily basis. "It's really not that unusual," he said quickly. "When I traveled with her and some friends, we stayed in towns all the time."

"For several days?" Holloway asked, clearly skeptical.

"Sh—She—"

"Didn't she tell you _why_?"

By now Alternate was almost shaking. He stood there like a cornered deer as Holloway patiently awaited an answer.

"She was attacked," Alternate blurted. "On the road to Murdoch. They got her pretty bad and she was in Murdoch recovering."

The man's eyebrows drew down. "That's unfortunate."

Alternate dropped his gaze. "I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want it to seem suspicious. I wanted to protect her. She really was trying to recover."

"You believed her?"

"Uh—Yes."

"Where did you last see her?"

"Going into a hotel."

"And where did you see the black horse?"

Alternate wavered. "At the hotel."

Holloway paused, showing a deep, inward contemplation. He turned away and slowly started pacing.

Alternate waited with anguished anticipation. He knew what the man was thinking, and it was the same thing he had thought the last time he saw Fino.

"Go get Shade," Holloway ordered, staring at the floor as he paced. "There's something we need to discuss."

When Alternate stepped outside, he found Tony waiting for him. She was sitting on a stone a distance away, almost concealed in the darkness, but her blonde hair gave her away in the moonlight. She jumped up from the rock and ran toward him.

"Is everything okay?" she asked. "What did you say about the horse?"

"I had to tell him," he replied with a grim face. "He wants me to go get Shade."

Tony's eyes went wide. "Does he think…?"

Alternate placed his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sure Shade already knows what happened. He's going to use this against me."

"He has nothing on you," Tony said firmly. "Shade can't prove anything. He can only speculate!"

"He's not going to use his best hand just yet. He's going to use it when it'll be the most rewarding. But the stakes are higher now." He wasn't able to lie to Holloway, but then telling the truth was almost equally damaging. He could've told Holloway that Shade had lied about not finding anyone on that scouting trip, but then he would also be revealing the fact that he'd let an enemy into the camp. He was in a lose-lose situation. _Oh, Fino. Why did you have to come find me? Why didn't you go home like I'd asked?! I'm doing this for you, too!_

"Do you want me to go get him?" Tony offered.

"No, I'll do it. I'd rather face him now than later."

Reluctantly, he let her go and went back toward camp, but he didn't have to go far. Waiting just below the ledge was Shade. He smiled up at Alternate, obviously expecting him.

"He called?" Shade asked.

Alternate tried not to scowl, but failed. "Yeah."

"A shame you had to give her your horse. It was a nice one. You'll have a hard time replacing it."

"I had to do it because you killed hers!"

Shade only grinned at him, knowing Alternate couldn't say a word to Holloway about the ambush. He wasn't worried about a thing.

Alternate let him take the lead. Tony was still waiting for them, wringing her hands with worry. "Nate," she whispered as he passed, "I trust Fino. I believe she's innocent."

He shook his head with pity. _You sound just like Mingchao._

 

* * *

 

Holloway had a map spread out on the table. He looked up from his study, appearing displeased. This was the first time in a while that he'd been this way, and it made Alternate uneasy.

"We have a problem," Holloway said. "Our mission might be compromised."

Alternate swallowed. "What do you mean?"

"I'm saying this friend of yours might have an unsavory connection we need to sever."

"But how do you figure she does?" Shade asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Alternate gave him a sharp look. _Why don't you ask yourself that question?!_

"I'll admit we don't have evidence, but we can find out." Holloway glanced at Alternate. "I want this to be your responsibility."

He gaped. "Me? What do you propose I do exactly? She's probably on her way home now as we speak."

Shade shrugged. "Go back to Murdoch and the hotel you saw her at. Ask them if they know which way she was heading."

"If she's not in town, then we have nothing to fear," Holloway added, going back to his map.

 _Do you expect me to search the whole town?_ Alternate wondered. "And if she hasn't gone home?"

"If she's with the Preacher's Kid, kill him. That'll cut the head off the snake. Then we wouldn't have anything to worry about anymore," Shade said. He made it sound so simple. The bounty hunter had been on their heels for a long time, slowly picking off their members like shooting cans off a fence. Not once had they been able to catch him. He was like a ghost, leaving only the prints of his boots or his horse in the drifting desert sand. Those who had seen his face were often the next to die.

Alternate extended his hands, palms up. "No, you don't understand. If you think the Lead Messenger is scary, wait until you see Fino's Zodiac Gun. I've actually been hit with that gun. It's no joke!"

"And she would shoot you, her friend?" Shade grinned. "We're not asking you to kill her, just the bounty hunter."

"She might try to protect him. Her gun may not kill, but it hurts."

Shade guffawed. "Her gun doesn't kill?!"

Holloway slammed his fist down on the table to silence them, vibrating the shadows being cast around the tent. His eyes were ablaze. "You will do as I command, Alternate! She is your friend, after all. If you believe she is innocent, then bring me the evidence. Until then, we cannot make our move." He rolled up the map and tucked it away in a long metal tube and capped it. "You are dismissed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I only intended for this story to be about ten chapters long. I don't know what happened.


	22. Chapter 22

The morning was cool, but the light touching the land warned of a hot day ahead. The sun peeked over the horizon, washing the bluffs behind the station with a brilliant orange hue. The light spilled into the valley and diminished the shadows on the mountains. They reflected the heat back onto Fino as she emerged from the latrine behind the station. She wiped her hands on her dress and gazed out at the wakening world.

She stepped away from the latrine. Reaching under her collar, she pulled out a small pouch from around her neck. It was carefully painted and beaded with the image of Falcon, her spirit messenger. She'd neglected to do this for some time, which made her feel guilty.

Opening the pouch, she took a pinch of tobacco and sprinkled it on the ground in front of her. She chanted a quiet prayer under her breath, turning to each of the cardinal directions as she gave thanks with the tobacco. In addition to her thanksgiving was a prayer for success, wisdom, and patience in the coming days.

She was glad this pouch hadn't been lost under Snow when the horse was shot dead. It had been hidden amongst her remaining belongings, deep inside the bag she carried. She found it this morning and was reminded of how she'd met Falcon during a dream quest just a year earlier. He had taught how to pray and seek guidance. Those days faded and Fino's thirst for revenge overtook her spiritual priorities. She wondered if perhaps the reason for her failure was due in part to overlooking the spirit realm. There was no way of knowing for sure, but it didn't hurt to try.

When she finished, Fino replaced the pouch and decided to keep it close. She would make a more concerted effort to put power medicine in it.

As she headed back toward the station, she stopped. The back of the station had a covered porch where an old woman sat in a chair with large wheels. She was clad in a yellow dress, her long salt-and-pepper hair pulled back into a sloppy bun. Streams of it fell over her shoulders. A light quilt was spread over her lap, covering her feet. There was something in the way the fabric fell over her legs that seemed strange. She was watching Fino with curiosity, her gray eyes sparkling with interest.

"You must be the Indian girl Boris told me about," the woman said with a warm smile. Her words were almost too soft to hear.

"I am," Fino replied, coming toward her. "Are you Quincy's mother?"

"I'm Delora, yes."

As Fino drew near, she could see the woman's frail condition. She was delicate, and apparently had no use of her legs judging by the device she was sitting in. Alternate had mentioned things called wheelchairs made for people who couldn't walk. Was this one?

"A pretty girl," Delora commented, showing her teeth. She still had almost all of them. "It must be difficult for you to be traveling like this. I must apologize for Quincy. He can be so obstinate." She spoke slowly, as if tired.

Fino shook her head quickly. "Um, it's no problem for me. I'm used to it, actually."

The woman chuckled. "The traveling or my son?"

"Both, maybe."

This produced another smile from Delora. "You must be far from home. Tell me, do your people live around here?"

"No. They live several days from here."

"That's what I suspected. Many of the Indians in this area moved out when the miners came and the towns sprung up."

"It seems many more whites are coming." Fino gestured to the land. "The tribe that lives to the north of my people keeps moving down into our lands. Long ago, we used to live in what's their territory now. We're a little out of our element as the people around us are different in how they dress and build their houses."

Delora leaned forward in her chair. "My father was a missionary to the Indians. He gained few converts, but learned to respect their ways, even admire them. He liked them." She turned her eyes to the bluffs. "I had hoped Quincy would follow in his footsteps."

"Did he talk to you last night?"

"He did. I have not seen my son in some time. He's the same as always." Delora shook her head. "Can't let the Lord have vengeance."

Fino wanted to ask what she meant, but it was none of her business. From what she could gather, Shade had done something terrible to incite Quincy's wrath. When she looked at the pale face of the woman in her chair, she had to wonder.

"He told me you were a pastor once," Fino said.

Delora seemed wistful. "Long ago. But the past is the past. I just wish Quincy would see that, but he has to keep chasing those outlaws."

"I see what you mean. But he believes he's bringing those people to justice."

The old woman shook her head again, looking sad. "He'll never find peace as long as he's carrying that gun. I fear he'll get himself killed one of these days."

It wouldn't be polite to argue further, so Fino let the issue drop. She knew her pursuit of Blush would likely get her killed, but she couldn't sit back and do nothing. She'd be letting Blush go free. Quincy must've felt the same way about Shade.

"I believe what Quincy is doing is noble," Fino told her gently. "He's a good person."

Delora sighed. She went quiet and seemed to turn inward. When she didn't speak again, Fino took her leave.

There was a deep sadness residing in Delora's soul. Perhaps she had a dream once but it had been shattered. Something in her had died.

As Fino was about to reenter the station, Quincy stepped out from a back door carrying two large buckets. Walking toward a well pump, he began pumping water into one of the buckets. He hadn't fully dressed, having only his jeans and boots on. Seeing him without a shirt startled Fino, and she was reluctant to approach at first. She willed herself forward.

"Are you going to take a bath? We're supposed to leave soon," she said.

"Not for a while longer. There's a problem with one of the horses, not sure what. The drivers are taking care of it." Quincy looked up. "You should take the opportunity to bathe, too, if you want."

"I think I'll be all right," she said. She watched his arm move with the pump, and how the muscles rolled under smooth skin. Quincy's chest had a light layer of soft dark hair with a converging trail leading down his abdomen. He was without an extra ounce of fat anywhere. There were a few minor scars here and there, but nothing compared to the one on his back.

Fino grew up in a place where men usually only wore breechclouts, and a life of frequent travel and labor toned bodies and strengthened them. It wasn't an unusual sight. But Fino stared anyway. Odd, was she already beginning to sweat this morning?

"I spoke to your mother," she said, sitting on her haunches to watch him. The water splattered into the second bucket. Glistening drops escaped over the lip. "I see she worries about you."

Quincy grunted. "It's no surprise."

"I know you're doing this for them."

"Am I?" He ceased pumping and looked at her. "They would argue otherwise. Whenever I try to offer them money from the bounties, they refuse it."

Fino glanced at the station. "Maybe they don't need it?"

"That's their claim, but the reality is they see it as blood money, money taken to kill someone."

"But those people are outlaws."

Quincy sighed. "We could go on for hours about this." He picked up the buckets and started for the station. Fino followed.

There was a small room intended for washing. Wash tubs were stacked against one wall. Quincy pulled one out and set it in the middle of the floor while Fino lingered at the door.

"Can I ask you a question?" Fino asked.

Quincy sat on a long bench against the wall to remove his boots. "What's that?"

"I noticed your mother was in that chair. Did Shade…do that to her?"

She was afraid she'd overstepped her bounds when he stopped suddenly with one boot halfway off his foot. He stared at the tub for a moment before answering. Darkness passed over his features.

"Yes. That was one of the things he did to her," he said. "If I had it my way, I'd hack his legs off at the knees, too."

Fino almost staggered back. That would explain why the blanket over Delora's legs had looked strange. She felt sick to her stomach to think about it. _What a monster… No, he's worse than that. He's a demon!_

"Shade's domain is torture and mutilation," Quincy said, sliding his boot off. "He leaves them alive to face their disfigurement. It's a fate worse than death."

Fino touched her throat. Shade could've easily done the same thing to her. Perhaps the spirits had been watching over her after all.

"Close the door," Quincy said curtly. He started fumbling with the buttons on his jeans.

"I want to help you stop Shade," Fino insisted.

"It's not your responsibility."

"Listen, I—I understand how you feel. My parents were murdered by a man named Blush. I'm still trying to find him. If we work together—"

"You're a kid."

"I'm a woman!"

Quincy pointed a stiff finger at her. "Unless you're dead-set on seeing me naked, then you'd better close that door."

She stepped out and nearly slammed the door with a snarl of disgust. "It's not like you have anything I haven't seen before."

"Suuuure."

Fino heard the water sloshing, but stayed by the door. "You've had confidence in me this whole time. You let me come along."

"After what he did to you, I can't let you go beyond this mission. You'll get your friend back and then I expect you to go home."

Fino slapped the door. "I really wish people would stop trying to send me home!"

"It's where you belong."

"Then where do _you_ belong, Quincy?"

The sloshing ceased, and silence descended. Fino knew she hit a nerve.

He didn't reply. Instead, the water splashed and there was nothing more from him.

 

* * *

 

Hoping against all hope. That was the only way Alternate could describe it. As he and Tony rode to Murdoch the following day, he wanted to fall off the horse and die in the dirt. It would be easier than what he had to do.

Holloway had been gracious to allow Tony to accompany Alternate on this depressing journey. He needed moral support. What if Fino was innocent? She'd be furious to know he was following up on her. It would show how much he didn't trust her.

But he had to decide what was more important.

"It's not going to take long," Tony assured him from behind. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed.

"I'm so tired," Alternate complained, squinting into the distance as Murdoch came into view. Holloway had ordered him to leave immediately after the meeting, and so he'd had no sleep, and neither had Tony. She sounded just as tired as he did.

The late afternoon sun assaulted them from above. They were getting low on water and had decided to skip the spring for making better time to Murdoch. Sweat plastered the hair to Alternate's forehead as the crown of his hat pressed against it. His back was damp, but that was because of Tony. If he hadn't felt so miserable he would've been thrilled with the sensation of her body pressed against him, in particular the swell of her breasts when she embraced him. But at the moment he just wanted a drink of water.

"Once we get there, we'll cool off and get something to eat and drink," Tony said. "We'll rest up and ask around."

"No," Alternate replied firmly. "We have to get this done as soon as possible."

"Nate, you don't need to push yourself so hard."

"I could see it in his face, Tony. It was like Holloway had lost faith in me, just like Shade wanted. But he was giving me a chance to redeem myself, and I have to. I have to prove it to him."

Tony placed a hand on his shoulder. "I don't believe Holloway has lost faith in you. He thinks if anyone can fix this, it's you."

It was an interesting way of looking at it, but he still thought Holloway was blaming him. _I don't want to get kicked out of the gang before I have a chance to talk to him. I want him to see me as worthy of being his son._ For most of his life, Alternate believed Gordy had looked down on him, was disappointed in him, and never believed he'd amount to anything more than a petty thief. The man had cared more about gold than about his own son.

As he reflected upon this, Alternate began to wonder if maybe Gordy knew something. But if the gold-crazed miner had believed the boy he'd raised wasn't his son, he would've let Alternate know about it sooner. Had he been oblivious?

Maybe it wasn't true. Maybe Gordy really had been his father all along. Alternate had nothing to go off of except appearances when it came to Holloway. The outlaw leader was taller and more robust. Alternate was shorter and slender, although he hadn't stopped growing just yet. Perhaps he had inherited some traits from his mother. He looked nothing like Gordy had.

What happened to his mother was a complete enigma. Gordy never spoke of it, only saying she had "gone away". For all Alternate knew, she was dead, and his search for her would be futile. Was it worth it to try? The only person he could ask was Holloway.

They entered town and went to the same saloon as last time. The hotel they'd seen Fino at had a new row of horses. No black horses or dappled grays.

When they dismounted, Alternate saw the swinging doors to the bar and realized it wouldn't be such a bad idea to have a short rest before beginning their search. They went inside and sat at a table, Tony ordering a water and Alternate requesting a beer. She looked at him dubiously.

"I'm just having one," he reassured her.

"I know." She took a sip of water and scanned the room at the people in front of them. "Nate, has Holloway mentioned anything to you lately about our so-called 'outside connection'?"

He wrapped his hands around the mug and rested his elbows on the table. "No, nothing. Why, is something bothering you?"

Tony wet her lips as she thought. "I was just thinking… That time Shade went out on the scouting trip and found Fino… He came back later than he should've."

"What do you mean?"

"If Fino really was eavesdropping on our meeting, left immediately the next morning, and was intercepted by Shade somewhere down the road before she reached Murdoch, how is it that it took him so long to get back to camp?"

Alternate shrugged. "I don't know. We don't know what time he found her." It felt strange giving Shade the benefit of the doubt, but it was true.

"Even so, I really think he should've at least gotten back at night, not morning."

"You think he was busy doing something else?"

Tony's thumbs rubbed the outside of her water glass. "I think he was meeting with our outside connection."

The "outside connection" was a partner the gang expected to meet after the robbery was over. He had influence with authorities and the criminal underworld. He could bribe anyone and infiltrate law enforcement. The man could supply them with anything the gang needed: guns, dynamite, camping gear, horses, or whatever else, but mostly weapons. Normally Holloway dealt with him, but every so often Shade would act as a mediator as necessary. Because of this man's support, he was going to be rewarded with a share of the loot. No one except Shade and Holloway had seen him as the man liked to keep his true identity a secret.

But he couldn't keep it a secret from everyone.

"If he was, then it was probably on Holloway's orders," Alternate said, leaning back in his chair. Already he was feeling better, but he loathed the thought of going back out in the hot sun.

"I don't think it was," Tony whispered, sounding worried. "Actually, I think Shade does it more often than Holloway knows. I've seen him leave in the middle of the night, and sometimes he makes excuses saying he's out scouting. He's lying."

"So do you think Shade is up to something?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but something does seem off."

"Wouldn't surprise me. You don't have to tell me Shade's a traitor. I can look in his eyes and see that. Did you say anything to Holloway?"

Tony looked ashamed. "No. He would want more evidence, and I really don't have anything else. Shade has been dependable the whole time he's been with the Black Eagles, and Holloway has full trust in him."

Alternate swirled the beer around in the mug and observed the bubbles rising in the amber liquid. He listened to the bawdy laughter of some men at a table behind him as they played poker and flirted with one of the saloon girls. Someone was playing a happy tune on the piano in the corner.

So Shade might not be as loyal as Holloway thought. If Shade planned on betraying him, then Alternate could see why the bastard was so intent on remaining second-in-command. He had privileges no one else did, including Holloway's full trust. When one proved themselves to the leader, it was almost set in stone, which was why Alternate was so desperate to make himself worthy.

But now he was worried. If, hypothetically, Shade was looking to double-cross Holloway, did he also plan on killing the man? No positions were inheritable in the gang, but no one said anything about the leadership. Would it be possible to kill the leader, assume headship of the Black Eagles, and bring them into the weapons black market?

Alternate would never allow it.

He lifted the mug to his lips. "We'll keep a closer eye on him. It may be that he's in league with our outside connection."

"But why?" Tony asked. "What does he have that Shade would want to team up with him?"

"A lot, I'm sure." Alternate took another swig of beer. "The black market for weapons is lucrative, I hear, especially for military weapons. It's probably more than what Shade would earn robbing stagecoaches and even the occasional bank."

The Syndicate had been the largest, most powerful, and most influential criminal organization in the country until it fell not too long ago. Since then, smaller groups that had been kept under its thumb for years broke free and started gaining power. No one group had managed to attain the same authority the Syndicate had, although it took the Syndicate years to reach its height, even with the advantage of opium to speed its progress.

Tony didn't yet know about Alternate's involvement in the fall of the Syndicate. However, it may be something he could use to impress Holloway. He would keep that valuable ace in his sleeve until he needed it.

"Well," he concluded, "let's say we go check out that hotel Fino was at."

They finished up their drinks and left.

At the hotel, a stagecoach had just unloaded passengers, and the lobby was busy. Alternate and Tony had to wait in a long line as people checked in. Behind the counter were a middle-aged man and woman who referred to each other as Walter and Damaris. They were quickly taking down names and handing out keys and giving information. It was ten minutes before the pair in the back of the line finally made it to the front. By then the clerks were winded. The woman had stray locks of hair dangling from her once-tight bun when Alternate addressed her.

"Sorry, but we're not here for a room," he told her.

"That's good, then," she said with a relieved sigh, "because we're booked solid."

"I'm here to ask if you saw a girl here yesterday, and if she stayed with you. Her name is Fino."

"Fino? Of course! She came here in terrible shape, but she left yesterday looking well."

"Did she come in with anyone?"

Now the woman eyed him. "May I ask who you are, young sir?"

"I'm a good friend of hers," Alternate replied, smiling in reassurance. "I heard something bad had happened and was worried, but I lost track of her."

The woman glanced from him to Tony and back again. The man beside her began to glare at them suspiciously. He was a short fellow with graying hair, and wore a delicate pair of silver-rimmed spectacles.

"Two men and a young boy came in with her," said Damaris.

Alternate's eyebrows went up. "Two men? And a boy? What were their names?"

The man started to speak, but Damaris cut him off. "I didn't get the names of the boy and one of the men. It appears they stayed elsewhere. They were a shabby couple, I'll say that much."

"But what about the other man?"

"That was Mr. Phillips."

"Phillips?"

"Yes. Quincy Phillips."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tony raise a hand to her mouth. When Damaris caught this, Tony said, "O-Oh, I'm just glad to hear she's in good hands!"

"Do you know Mr. Phillips?"

"Uh—Um, well, w-we're acquainted."

"I see."

The man muttered something under his breath, but Alternate didn't catch it.

"Do you know where she went?" Alternate pressed. "Did she plan on going home or…?"

"Mr. Phillips mentioned going with her to Silver Ridge on the stagecoach," Damaris answered, "but don't ask me why, because he never said."

Blood throbbed in Alternate's ears. _No. It can't be. She wouldn't…!_

"Thank you for your help," he told them with a bow of his head. "I feel better knowing she's well."

The couple stared after them, the man scowling as if he had eaten something disgusting. The woman was apparently a talker, too much for her own good, and Fino's.

Alternate walked a ways down the boardwalk before he had to sit down on a bench in front of a general store. Tony went quickly to his side. Her face was pale.

"It's true," he said at last. There was a crushing pressure on his heart, and almost felt sick to his stomach. The beer burned in his gut. Removing his hat, he leaned his head against the wall behind him. "She listened to our meeting that night. There's no other reason for her to go to Silver Ridge. And that man she was with was probably the bounty hunter."

"Quincy Phillips—that's the Preacher's Kid's _real name_!" Tony whispered harshly.

Alternate jerked upright. "How do you know?"

"Shade told me."

"And how come no one ever told me?"

"Probably because you're still new to the gang."

_A silly reason_ , Alternate thought. "Would've been nice to know this earlier." He stood and slapped his hat against his thigh to clear the dust from his trousers.

"Now what do we do?" Tony asked, clearly heartbroken. "Do we really have to follow them?"

"Would you defy Holloway's orders?"

She cringed at the thought. "No."

"But he didn't tell you to do it. You stay here while I got out and look for them."

"Never! I'm going with you. You need someone to watch your back."

Her tone of voice suggested no argument, and thus he conceded quietly. He looked out at the street. "But I wonder who those other two were. Do you think they knew the bounty hunter?"

"We've never seen anyone with him, but there are stories that he has accomplices, and sometimes we find their tracks. I don't know how many there are."

Alternate's only order was to kill the bounty hunter. He couldn't care less about the accomplices, although it could make matters more difficult should he run into them.

_Fino, how could you do this me? I thought you were my friend, but this whole time you were deceiving me! Why? To stop the robbery?_ He never thought Fino would care about something like that. But was that her only motive? Love was certainly the main motive, and she kept begging him to return with her, worried that the law would catch up with him. She acted like she was desperate to save his life. What could the Preacher's Kid do to help her?

Alternate scratched his chin as he studied the street. "Let's stay the night here. I don't feel like camping out."

Tony was shocked. "But shouldn't we try to catch up with them?"

"We can head out tomorrow. Don't worry. If they're going to Silver Ridge then we have nothing to worry about. We have plenty of time. They aren't even there yet."

Tony frowned. "But they might come back as soon as they get there. They'll realize—"

"I know that, but when they do make their way back here, we'll be on the road to meet them."

And he dreaded to think about what would happen when that time came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the historical inaccuracy of _Et Cetera_ is deliberate, but I can’t help but facepalm when it comes to the Indians in the story. Don’t even get me started on the tipis. It’s like watching a horrible episode of _Daniel Boone_ where all the Indians look like Plains Indians no matter the tribe. Again, don’t get me started on the tipis. It’s my headcanon that Fino’s tribe is out of place. 
> 
> There’s a small panel in Episode 17 of Volume 5 showing the characters coming out of southwestern Utah. If the starting point is the location of Fino’s village, then she is in the historical territory of the Southern Paiute. They lived in brush huts. Being that it’s not unusual for groups to move around and for others get pushed into new lands, I created a somewhat plausible story to explain it.
> 
> I’m probably overanalyzing it, though. But being someone who takes a strong interest in Native American topics, it was bothering me. It really only serves to perpetuate misconceptions and images we’d rather have disappear. You can mess with my American history all you want, because most of what we believe about the “wild west” is myth anyway. But this…?


	23. Chapter 23

The book was lying out in the open. The pencil was beside it, along with a few pieces of folded clothing. On the floor by the cot was Quincy's valise and suitcase. He had stepped out the room to go shave.

Fino stared at the book, temptation tugging at her. It was the first time she'd seen the book since that day she awoke in the hotel. After that, Quincy kept it hidden away. She never asked about it, and really she hadn't been that interested. Until now.

The bounty hunter wouldn't be back for a while. It would give Fino just enough time to snoop. She tightened the strings on her bag and tiptoed over to the cot. She remembered watching him sleep last night, and seeing the scar on his back. A strange feeling had come over her, leaving her confused. It was really something she didn't need at this point in time. She had a job to finish, and it wouldn't do to get her emotions twisted up in a knot.

_Here I go again, pushing it away._ When was she going to learn?

Her fingers were on the book when voices were heard just outside the door, and she stopped. When it was quiet again she snatched up the book.

Quincy had written lines of words, but it wasn't what Fino was used to seeing. Even though she couldn't read, she had seen letters of correspondence, but the way the lines were arranged on the pages seemed odd. As she turned the pages there were drawings of birds, animals, plants, scenery, and people. The drawings were actually quite good, masterful, even, with careful attention to detail. There was a picture of Lobo laughing, his mouth wide and his eyes dancing with character. Sticky was shown sitting under a tree, looking pensive as he stared off into the distance.

On one page was a drawing she found familiar. It was a picture of a young girl lying in bed, appearing asleep. The way he drew the hair and face… Fino's breath caught. _That's me!_ He'd drawn her while she was unconscious in the hotel. The next page showed a similar picture, except Fino's arm was above the covers and her head was turned away. The lines of words were spaced the same way as the rest in the book, but there was more writing on the bottom of the page, closely compacted.

How she wished she could read! She concentrated on the letters, trying to remember what little she knew about the English alphabet. A door slammed somewhere in the building and she quickly replaced the book. She'd just made it back to her cot when Quincy came in. He stopped and saw her sitting on her cot, hands on her lap and looking innocent and obedient. He eyed her, and then looked at his cot. Nothing seemed out of place.

He grabbed up the book and tucked it into his jacket's inner pocket. "You ready?"

Fino nodded without a word.

They took their guns and packed their belongings into the stagecoach. Whatever had been wrong with the horse had apparently been solved, because the full team was harnessed and ready.

As the wagon lurched forward, Fino asked, "When do you think we'll get to Silver Ridge?"

"Late tonight, if not early morning," Quincy replied. He rocked from side to side with the motion of the coach. Fino paralleled his movements. The road was rough in these parts.

"Did you say goodbye to your parents?" Fino asked.

"Of course."

"Do you plan on coming back soon?"

"If we have to come back this way, most likely."

Fino wasn't sure she was looking forward to it. Quincy's parents were nice enough, but the food had been mediocre and her back hurt from sleeping on the cot. Yet Fino was used to sleeping on the ground with just a hide or two to cushion her.

"Your parents were kind to let us stay," she said.

"I'm grateful, but I still paid them. No discounts for family, especially for wandering bounty hunter sons."

_Wandering, huh?_ Fino was curious about that. It was obvious Quincy didn't have a set home to return to, unless he counted the station, which he probably didn't. Perhaps that had been one of the reasons his relationships with women didn't work out. To get married would mean he'd have to settle down permanently and quit his work as a bounty hunter. Until he brought Shade to justice, he couldn't hope to do any of that.

She felt sad for him, and in a way she understood. Her pursuit of Blush had prevented her from seeing Alternate's feelings for her, and even if she had, what would have become of their relationship? Would they have been able to start a family of their own? Fino doubted it, not unless they were able to catch Blush soon after and kill him. It seemed they were always on the road looking for him. And how long would it have taken to catch him? Years?

It seemed so hopeless. Fino felt like she already had too much on her plate to deal with. She needed to free Alternate, find Blush, and on top of all this she wanted to help Quincy arrest Shade. But the future was uncertain. She could fail Alternate, never find Blush, and not be allowed to follow Quincy.

_But I'm making progress,_ she reminded herself. They would get to Silver Ridge, find the bank, and wait for the outlaws to arrive. They were already past the hardest part.

She lifted her gaze and found Quincy staring out the window, deep in thought. She recalled how he smelled when he got out the bath, clean and fresh. His hair had still been damp, increasing the wavy texture as it slowly dried. The memory of his trim, naked chest brought warmth to her cheeks. Quincy bathed often, although she didn't understand why. But Fino decided she quite liked how he smelled afterwards.

The coach had become uncomfortably warm, and she tore her eyes away from Quincy. She tried to think about Alternate, and how he had gently touched her cheek. She still remembered the sensation. He'd never done that before, and she cherished the moment. His eyes had looked at her tenderly with an unspoken promise, and when Fino thought about it her hope was reborn. Maybe there _could_ be a future for them? He would understand why she had to do this. She was doing it out of love, because she couldn't bear to lose him.

Fino looked again at Quincy. She ventured carefully into the next topic. "Did your family live in a town once?"

"Yes," Quincy replied, still staring out the window.

"What was it called?"

He snapped his gaze on her, evidently irritable at her questions. "Does it matter?"

"Sorry! I was just wondering if your parents had always run a station."

Quincy sighed, but still appeared annoyed. "No. Like I said before, my mother was a preacher, but my father was a doctor."

Fino gave a start. That old man had been a doctor? He'd looked more like a farmer.

"He practiced medicine in the military and started his own practice later," Quincy continued. "When…" He took a breath and looked out the window again. "When my mother became crippled, my father quit and moved out here to run a stage station."

Fino was reluctant to ask why Shade had targeted Delora. Instead she asked, "Did he stitch up that wound on your back?"

Quincy's hand immediately went to touch his shoulder. He was surprised and his face turned a little pink.

"Don't look so shocked," Fino said, suppressing a grin. "When you walk around without your shirt on, I can see everything." Somehow that didn't sound quite right. Now she was the one turning pink.

"Yes, he did," Quincy answered.

"He's a good doctor, then."

There was quiet for a time between them. Fino listened to the rumbling of the horses and the sharp commands of the driver. The coach jolted beneath her, making it difficult for her to think of her next words. She didn't want Quincy to be so distant from her. The more she got to know him, the more interesting he became, especially after discovering the book. Fino was dying to ask him what it all meant, but it could be a private matter. She didn't want to embarrass him.

"I meant what I said earlier," she said, "about helping you stop Shade."

"And I meant it when I said I didn't want you to," he replied.

"And what are you going to do if I decide to follow you?"

"Didn't you say you were looking for a man?"

Fino blinked. "Yes, but…"

"I was just thinking about that now. You said his name was Blush."

Her heart leaped. "Do you know him?"

"Took me a while, but I seem to recall a man by that name. He's wanted for murder or something or other."

Fino had to quell the raging hurricane in her breast when she thought about Blush. "Have you ever met him?"

"No, but I've seen the posters. Shouldn't finding him be your first priority?"

She bit her lip and knew he was right. "Well, yes, but... Don't you think you can help me find Blush, too?" Quincy was a bounty hunter who knew the ins and outs of criminals and their movements. With his help, surely she could track down Blush again.

Quincy's expression softened, but he seemed conflicted at first. He paused before answering. "Okay. When this is over, I'll see what I can do to help you find this man. But only I will handle Shade. He's my prey."

Hope filled Fino once again. She beamed at him. "You'll help me?"

"Yes."

It struck her then that he didn't ask for anything in return. Had she managed to grow on him in such a short period? Or was he still feeling guilty about Shade's ambush, as if he owed her for the trouble? The drawings of her in the book had seemed so intimate, even the bruises on her face had been carefully detailed. He'd watched over her without ceasing.

"Thank you," she said gratefully, "for all your help."

 

* * *

 

Quincy nodded in acknowledgement of her thanks. He saw the rosy color on her cheeks, and realized how young she really was. He gauged her at about fourteen years old, and this Alternate kid was probably a few years older, awfully young to be with the Black Eagles.

From his personal observations he couldn't see what Fino saw in the young man. Alternate hadn't fully entered manhood. He was of average height for his age, but he was scrawny. And that monocle he wore, what sort of fashion statement was that? However, there had to be more to him if he was Holloway's master planner, and he knew nothing of Fino's previous relationship him.

_Young love,_ he mused. How he remembered how it felt, but the memories were tainted by his mistakes. He'd had opportunities to leave behind his life as a bounty hunter, but he couldn't let Shade get away with his crimes. He owed it to his family to turn Shade in to the law. Quincy supposed that when he at last accomplished that goal and decided to seek a wife, he'd have to search outside his religion. No Quaker woman would accept the advances of a man like him. He snorted to himself. It'd been a long while since any woman had piqued his interest anyway.

Fino had turned her gaze away from him and was staring out the window. Lately it seemed that her behavior toward him had changed a little. He felt their relationship had improved, but he detected something else about her that he couldn't quite place. He'd caught her staring at him a few times, and the time she'd waited at the door of the bathing room was unusual. Most women would've run away dying of shame. What a strange girl she was.

Quincy smiled despite himself. He'd grown to like Fino over the short time she'd been with him. In fact, if he could find an older version of her, he just might consider pursuing her. Like Lobo had said, he liked feisty women, but he also appreciated Fino's moral convictions and gentle soul toward animals like horses. His mother had been a warrior for justice in their community, until Shade broke her spirit. She'd retained her tender heart as a mother and toward those less fortunate, but something in her died that day Shade kidnapped and brutally tortured her.

Again Fino was looking at him, and when he gave her a friendly smile in return, she stiffened and looked away. The flush over her face wasn't lost on him, and he saw her swallow. He pretended to watch the scenery outside, but she didn't turn to him again. At first he figured maybe she wanted to say something but hadn't been sure. Then another possibility came to mind.

Quincy reached into his pocket and pulled out the other half of the peppermint stick. He'd eaten the first half and saved the second.

"You know," he said, "I've been wondering. You never intended to get me this. It was an excuse to find your friend." When she jerked around, he curved his lips into a beguiling smile.

Fino sputtered, her face growing redder. "Wh-What? No, I—I wanted to thank you. I just didn't know how, that's all. It was—"

Quincy gave her a teasing look, knowing she wasn't telling the whole truth.

"I was…" She stopped and took a breath. "All right. The truth is, I didn't think about it until later. But really I meant it. You didn't have to do what you did for me."

Quincy arched an eyebrow. "I had to do what was right. I couldn't leave you out there alone. You would've died."

Fino bit her lip and glanced away from him.

"But you were hoping Alternate would find you."

Her eyes widened.

"You were delirious, talking in your sleep."

She kept her gaze averted. "I—I know."

He imagined how disappointed she must've been when she found it wasn't Alternate waiting at her bedside that morning. Perhaps her perception of Quincy had changed when she realized he'd saved her life. _But she's not the type to trust someone until they've proven themselves_ , he reasoned. Not a bad trait to have, but he got the impression she was an unusually wary girl. One would have to prove themselves a few times until she at last gave her approval. Had he made it that far yet? Somehow he felt he hadn't. It was something he needed to work on if he wanted this mission to be successful.

 

* * *

 

Alternate flopped down on the bed with a sigh. Exhausted, he didn't mind that the sheets felt scratchy and smelled strongly of detergent soap. It beat sleeping on the ground any night. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in a real bed. It brought back memories of the time he, Mingchao, and the others traveled to New York City. Tonight, however, there would be no nostalgic dreams of beating the bad guys. He wouldn't be able to sleep much because his stomach had been turning somersaults ever since he discovered Fino's betrayal.

He heard Tony come in and toss a small valise on the bed beside him. She'd just bathed and fell on her bed, seeming just as relieved to have one.

"It's like being on vacation," she said in a muffled voice. Her face was buried in a pillow. "I could get used to this."

Alternate could only _wish_ it was a vacation. "Enjoy it while it lasts. We're leaving at first light."

"So early?" Tony complained.

"I thought you liked getting up early?"

"Not when I haven't had enough sleep!" She pulled her face out the pillow. "I value my sleep, thank you very much."

"You're not working at a bank, Tony. There are no open-and-close times with the Black Eagles. We have to be on alert at all times."

She buried her face in the pillow again. "Then I don't want to do this anymore."

Alternate was taken aback. Was she serious? "I thought you liked being a safecracker?"

Tony lifted her head and stared at the headboard. "I do, but…" She turned on her side and chewed on her thumbnail. "Nate, are you going to leave the Black Eagles after we hit that bank?"

Alternate hesitated. "I don't know yet. I want to look for my mother, but I don't know if staying with the gang is going to help me do that. If Holloway doesn't know anything, then I'll have to leave."

"Can I go with you?" Tony asked quickly. Her blue eyes sparkled with such intensity that Alternate found it cute.

"You'd really do that?" he asked, amazed. "But I thought the gang was like a family to you? You'd leave Holloway?"

"A girl's gotta strike out on her own at some point," Tony replied with a wide grin. "I'm almost grown!"

Alternate got her meaning. If he was going to leave in the end, she wanted to be with him no matter where he went, as a _couple_. He doubted he'd be able to team up with Fino again after this fiasco, but the outcome was still uncertain.

"Let's wait and see what happens," he said. "If Holloway knows anything, he might save me the trouble." If Alternate's mother was dead, then there was no reason to leave. But another motive kept him in the gang. It was such a shame that his relationship with Fino was going to run itself off a cliff, much like the train he hijacked not too long ago. If she hadn't found him with the Black Eagles, everything would be going according to plan.

"Okay," said Tony, lowering her eyes in disappointment.

"But if I do leave, you can come with me."

"Really?!"

"Yeah."

Tony gave him a relieved smile. The glow of the lamp on the table between them gleamed over her freshly washed, golden blonde hair. Some of the waves were still a little damp, twisting into ringlets that framed her face. Her small pink lips were shaped into a Cupid's bow, and his heart fluttered as he stared at them. For a girl so beautiful it was a rough life she'd chosen. Alternate would hate to see her become an old hag cracking safes in an outlaw gang for the rest of her life.

"I'd like you to go with me," he told her. "I don't want to go alone."

"But what about Fino?"

"What about her?"

Tony's brows drew together. "Don't you want her to go with us, too?"

"Wh-What are—What do you mean?" It didn't make sense why she would ask. Why was she so hung up about Fino anyway? "Tony, don't you understand that if we find the bounty hunter and kill him, that Fino will—"

"Hate you?"

"I mean to say she'll probably see us as enemies."

"But won't she understand why you're doing all this when you tell her?"

Alternate sighed. "I already did. I lied to her before, and that really bothered her. Fino hates liars."

"But you're not a bad person, not like Shade," Tony insisted. "She'll understand, Nate. Sometimes we have to lie, for good reasons."

"If only everyone believed that." _And Fino._ But she'd never buy into that idea.

"So you told her about Holloway?"

"I did. She was surprised, but…"

"But what?"

"She didn't believe that was the actual reason."

Tony sat up in the bed. "How come? What other reason could she suspect?"

"I don't know."

Tony paused. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, making the springs creak. "Does she know about us?"

"Well, she did accuse me of…of liking you."

Tony giggled. "That's putting it lightly."

Alternate blushed. Truth be told, he did find himself falling more and more for the safecracker. It was generally recognized in the gang that the two of them were an item, and even Holloway seemed pleased about it. From what Alternate had heard, the man was known for intimidating and chasing away Tony's suitors. He was a father figure to her, but he also knew Tony was capable of making her own choices. She had good judgment and patience, although she could be a little naïve from time to time. But if someone crossed the line and didn't give her the respect she deserved, she wasn't afraid to let them know it.

Tony worked well with Alternate, too. They were both planners, and her soft heart and gentle approaches offset Alternate's more devious, violent nature. He saw goodness in her that encouraged him, and sometimes he wished neither of them were with the Black Eagles. Didn't she see that she could do better? But for some reason she enjoyed the challenges the outlaw life provided, stealing from the wealthy and cracking open their iron-clad safes they believed impenetrable.

"But it sounds like she likes you," said Tony thoughtfully.

Alternate vented a deep sigh. "She's in love with me," he said flatly.

Tony puckered her lips in a pout. "That's what I figured. I saw you two outside the saloon."

Alternate sat bolt upright. "I was just trying to comfort her! Please, don't be jealous!"

She eyed him seriously, and then flashed a flirtatious smile. "Why would I be jealous?"

"B-Because…"

Tony sprung from her bed and landed on top of him. They bounced together on the mattress. "I have no reason to be jealous, because I know I have you."

The only thing Alternate could do was grin awkwardly. When he found his voice, he gently pushed her up. "Th-This really isn't a good idea," he said, his voice quivering. "Holloway would disapprove."

Tony laughed. She knew he was eager to please Holloway even in the area courtship, since Tony was like a daughter to him. But if she was like a daughter, would that make her like Alternate's sister? For a few brief moments that thought was very strange to him.

Fortunately, Tony returned to her own bed and left Alternate to his cogitations.


	24. Chapter 24

Fino awoke when the stagecoach stopped. The darkness outside the windows gave her a sense of déjà vu. Her body was sore, especially her ribs. She was still recovering in some places, it seemed. When she sat up, she cringed at the pain. The jostling from the coach hadn’t helped much, either.

“Quincy, where are we?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

He was already awake. With one hand he pushed aside the flap that covered the window beside him. A sliver of orange light fell over his face. His mouth was set in a grim line.

“We’re in Silver Ridge,” he grumbled.

The coach rocked slightly as the drivers dismounted. People were heard outside. Somewhere nearby there must’ve been a party going on, because laughter and shouting echoed over the streets. Once, Fino heard a gunshot and jumped, but Quincy didn’t budge. His eyes were narrowed as he stared at something out the window.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he muttered.

“What do you mean?” Fino asked.

Without answering, Quincy shoved aside the mailbags hogging the space under his seat so he could grab up the rifle case. He’d decided to keep it with him this time. Fino had done the same with the Zodiac Gun.

The stagecoach was parked outside a hotel. The driver and his guard were busy unloading luggage when Quincy headed straight into the hotel. Fino waited outside, not wanting to leave their belongings in the presence of strangers in the streets. There certainly was a party going on. The source was a saloon just a block away. In the lamplight, banners hung over the road, but Fino couldn’t read what they said. Men staggered about and bellowed out drunken harmonies with barely intelligible words. Women dressed in colorful, scanty dresses hung on the arms of some men, kissing their cheeks and whispering things in their ears that made the men burst out in bawdy laughter.

Fino was still watching when Quincy returned and picked up their bags. “Come on,” he grouched. “Let’s get inside before someone sees us.”

She took notice of his attitude. Something was bothering him. Did it have something to do with the reveling townsfolk?

Their rooms were upstairs and situated across the hall from each other. When Fino saw her room her eyes widened in surprise. Unlike the cheaper rooms she was accustomed to, this one had some fancier amenities. On the floor was an large rug embroidered with roses. The walls were plastered with black and beige wallpaper featuring floral designs. The mattress on the bed was thick and draped with a white frilly comforter and plump pillows. An armoire made from dark wood was placed on one side of the room, mirrors fixed to each door. On the other side of the room was a vanity table with a wash basin and pitcher, both appearing to be made of expensive material. A firm pink chair with its arms and legs painted in gold was beside the table.

Fino was about to say something to Quincy when she heard him growl, “This isn’t what I asked for.” She saw his room was similar to hers.

“What’s wrong with it?” she asked.

Quincy grimaced. “It’s too…”

“Did it cost a lot?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then what’s wrong with it?”

He sighed. “I guess…nothing is wrong. I’m just not used to it, that’s all.”

“Then what are you used to?” Fino still didn’t understand what the fuss was about. Of the two of them, she was the one who should’ve felt out of place. She was getting used to the accommodations in white settlements, though. She looked forward to sleeping in her plush room.

“Never mind,” Quincy said quickly. He entered his room and slid the rifle case under the bed. He then hefted the valise up where it bounced on the fat mattress. “There’s a restaurant in the building next door. We can eat there in the morning. Sticky and Lobo will be there.” He turned away from her and opened his suitcase.

He seemed suddenly closed off from Fino, and it troubled her. She stood by the door, watching him as he pulled out a set of clothes, ones Fino hadn’t seen him wear before.

Quincy stopped and turned a sharp gaze on her. “Are you going to watch me undress again?” He shrugged off his jacket and began unbuttoning his waistcoat.

Fino couldn’t stop the blush. “Something is bothering you and you won’t tell me.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Ever since we got here, you’ve seemed a little…”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “A little…?”

“I don’t know, irritable, maybe?”

The waistcoat was tossed to the bed and Quincy started on his shirt. Fino’s eyes were riveted to his fingers as they unfastened each button. Her heart sped up when at last he pulled off the shirt. There was a quiet pause, and it took far too long for Fino to realize she was still staring. Quincy put a hand on his hip and gave her a curious look.

“You really don’t need to worry about it,” he told her.

“O-Oh, okay,” she replied awkwardly. It was probably because they were getting close to their goal and he was getting impatient, but there was something more to it.

“Privacy,” he reminded her.

“Y-Yes!” She stepped out, shut the door, and leaned against it. Her face felt like it was on fire and her cheeks were hot to the touch. Her heart pounded in her ears as Fino wobbled back to her room. It was like all of the blood had gone to her head.

_What is the matter with me?!_ Oh, she knew. She just didn’t want to admit it. _It means nothing. It’s normal that I’d find a handsome man attractive._ Great. Now she was admitting Quincy was handsome. But it definitely wasn’t love. Finding someone physically attractive and being in love could be separate things. She knew that. She’d known attractive men in her village who were also conceited jerks who only cared about themselves and what they wanted. A few had tried to court her, but she’d wounded their pride and sent them running like the cowards they really were. There was nothing worse than a good-looking man with bad character. Looks meant nothing.

Quincy was confident, but not really conceited. He could be kind, and seemed to genuinely care about her safety. He could’ve just up and left her alone in Murdoch. He allowed her to come along, although not without a little protest. She felt respected that he let her make her choice.

But if she really messed up, would Quincy change his tune?

_I’m not going to mess up. I’m going to do this right._ She’d just have to rein in her impatience. Easier said than done.

Fino sighed. Her face had cooled, but the heat returned with a vengeance when a picture of Quincy’s shirtless chest invaded her mind. He was a grown, mature man, and she could obviously see that. She was shocked, pleased, and dismayed all at the same time. Fino had never been attracted to anyone that much older than her. She’d once pined after a young warrior about six years her senior when she was only ten. Not until Alternate did she find another person who affected her like that, but at least he was closer in age.

_But it’s not weird I’d like an older man._ No, it wasn’t. In fact, a young woman—yes, _woman_ —her age typically married in her mid to late teens in her tribe. Fino was approaching that time. Young men were a little older when they married because they had to establish good reputations as adults, like being good hunters and hard workers. But sometimes a young woman would marry an older man of prestige. It was considered a great honor to any family. Luckily, Fino hadn’t been faced with that choice.

Still, she was startled and perplexed by what she was feeling. She was in love with Alternate, but this new realization about Quincy added further complexity to her overall problem. _It’s just simple attraction_. _I don’t feel the same way about Quincy that I do about Alternate. I’m in love with Alternate._ _He’s the one I want._

Fino was able to steady her heart and sink into the soft bed.She tried to forget it all and think about tomorrow. But when she drifted away into dreams, she kept seeing the bounty hunter’s roguish smirk.

 

* * *

 

She slept late. Fino dragged herself out of bed the next morning and got ready for the day, feeling calmer than the night before. Scoping out the bank was something to look forward to, so she bounded down the stairs and headed into the restaurant that was connected to the hotel.

The restaurant was busy. It was a big place, with around twenty tables and four chairs surrounding each one. Servers darted from table to table, taking orders and serving food. About half the room was filled with patrons, but more were coming in. Fino wasn’t sure if Quincy had arrived yet, but as she went to seat herself she made out a familiar face toward the back of the room. She hesitated, unsure at first, but the more she looked at his face… _Is that really Quincy?_

Yes, it was him. Fino was amazed. He’d combed his dark auburn hair and slicked it back. Instead of his usual black attire, Quincy opted for a crisp white dress shirt with a high collar and black string tie. His crimson, paisley-patterned waistcoat had a satiny sheen that flattered his fit figure. It went well with the light tan trousers he wore. The chain from his pocket watch trailed from the center button of his waistcoat into his right pocket, and the shoes on his feet shined with polish. Freshly shaven, he looked debonair. He sat sipping his coffee and reading the local newspaper.An empty plate from his breakfast sat off to the side.

Fino went to stand in front of him. She was at a loss for words and stared at him stupidly.

Quincy folded the paper and put it down. He took his coffee and without looking at her said, “Took you long enough to get up. I’ve been waiting for over an hour.”

“I was just so tired last night,” she said. _Sounds to me like_ you _could’ve used more sleep, you grumpy grizzly._

“We’re expected to meet Sticky and Lobo soon. We don’t want to be late.”

“Well, we won’t be.” She pulled out a chair next to him and caught a whiff of lavender. Did he have to smell good, too? “Wh-What’s the occasion, anyway?”

Quincy’s eyebrows rose. “Hm? Why, this is my disguise.”

“How come?”

He put the coffee mug to his lips and scanned the room. “There are some people here who might know me.”

“It wasn’t that hard for me to find you.”

“I haven’t been here in a while. I’m just hoping peoples’ memories might be a little fuzzy.”

“You never tried to hide your identity before. Why here?”

“It’s…complicated.”

Fino thought a moment. “People here don’t like you.”

Quincy set the mug down with a loud tap. “Girl, stop…being so…”

“It was the only thing I could think of. So, why don’t people like you? I thought you put away criminals? People should like you for that.”

He looked pensive and observed the crowd. His thumb stroked the rim of his mug. “I have a history here. Made a lot of enemies,” he said, keeping his voice low.

He went silent. Fino was patient, letting him decide how much he wanted to tell her. She was eager to know more, but pushing him wouldn’t be wise. _Please trust me, Quincy. Your secrets are safe with me._ But what gave her the privilege to know them? Nothing. She’d only known him for a few weeks and he had no reason to share anything. This pained her.

Fino glanced down at the table, knowing he wouldn’t divulge more. She heard the newspaper rustle, and Quincy lifted it high to block his face. Before she could ask what the problem was, a young waitress came to stand at their table. She had a wealth of blond hair so pale it was almost white, tied up in a monstrous construction of pins and clips. Fino had no idea how the woman managed to know exactly where to put each piece and actually make it look intentional.

The woman gave Fino a friendly smile. When her blue eyes slid over to Quincy, however, the smile turned provocative. She wore a dark blue dress with a white apron tied around her tiny waist, but the bulge of her large bosom, along with the beehive on her head, made her look a little top-heavy. She was pretty, though.

“I see you have a lady friend,” the waitress said. She parted her red lips to show white teeth, and turned her piercing gaze on Fino. “You’re lucky to have a beau like him.”

“A what?” Fino asked. Weren’t bows those things you tied on presents?

Quincy cleared his throat, but he didn’t lower the paper. “She’s not mine. We’re just passing through together.”

“Oh. My mistake,” the waitress replied, but her lips turned up into a grin. “Can I get anything for you, sweetheart?” she asked Fino.

“Anything without meat would be nice,” Fino answered.

“I know just the thing,” the waitress said with a wink. When she sashayed toward the kitchen, she made extra sure to twist her wide hips. Quincy didn’t look up until she was totally out of sight. He dropped the paper and heaved an exasperated sigh.

“She’s been hunting me all the morning,” he grumbled. “That has to be the fifth time she’s come over here.”

Fino chuckled. “Can you blame her? Look at the way you’re dressed. Were you expecting to go unnoticed?”

Quincy leaned over and came in close to her. She could smell the lavender quite strongly now. “Are you saying I look good this morning?”

Fino choked on the words. “W-W-Well, yes, o-of—of course!” The hard pulse in her throat almost hurt.

The bounty hunter smiled. “Thank you.”

The waitress returned with a plate of raw vegetables and a side of sliced apples for Fino. It wasn’t fancy, but Fino was grateful for the service.

Quincy concentrated on the paper in front of him, and when the waitress asked if he wanted anything more, he declined. His manners were cold, but that didn’t seem to deter the waitress. She swept her skirts around and left for other duties.

Fino ate in silence. She wondered when Sticky and Lobo would arrive since she wasn’t sure she could take this much longer. Every time she smelled the lavender her heart pumped fast enough to make her feel faint. She looked back at the waitress who was busy delivering a steaming plate of food to another customer, but the woman would sometimes flit her eyes toward Quincy.

_I’m not nearly as pretty as her,_ Fino thought. Fino was shorter than the average white woman in her age group, small-chested, and she felt like being dark-skinned would always be a disadvantage as long as she kept falling for white men. Yes, she was a woman by her tribe’s standards, but here in the white world she was still a child.

At home she had a beautiful dress reserved for ceremonial occasions. It was made from soft white doe hide. Sewn over the front were black porcupine quills, and small shells traded all the way from the Gulf Coast lined the shoulders. They would shimmer in the sunlight. Long fringes hung from the sleeves and along the bottom hem. Geometric designs were painted on the borders using a special blue dye. A slender blue horse was illustrated over the chest of the dress. A colorful beaded belt decorated the waist, and she had boots to match. The crowning achievement would be the glittering headband Fino had made herself, with downy white feathers that swayed with every motion. She could be as beautiful as any white woman in her finery, and Fino took pride every time she danced to the heartbeat of Mother Earth. Would Quincy take notice of her if she had that dress on?

_Why in the world am I thinking about Quincy?!_ It was Alternate she wanted to please!

Fino dropped a slice of apple onto the floor and muttered a curse under her breath. Why was this happening to her now? She prayed this whole mess would be over soon, so she could have Alternate back and go home.

“Are you all right over there?” Quincy asked with a hearty laugh. Fino liked the deep, pleasant sound of it. “Looks like you’re having some trouble.”

She put the slice aside. “I’m fine. I’m just a little nervous, that’s all.”

“About what?”

“About the robbery. I just hope everything goes well.”

“It will,” Quincy assured her with that dashing smile that was beginning to eat away at her resolve. “I’ve been in some pretty bad scrapes but always came out on top.”

_So have I._ But she always paid the price for it.

Fino had just finished her food when Lobo came swaggering in with Sticky trailing behind him. Customers glanced at him in apprehension. He made straight for Quincy, but rather than having his trademark grin, his unshaven face was set in a hard expression. Something was wrong.

Lobo took the next seat closest to Quincy and the poor chair creaked under his weight. Sticky chose the chair next to Fino. He gave her a smile as hello.

“Bad news, boss,” Lobo whispered. His eyes were shifty and he scowled at the people around them.

“Someone know I’m here?” Quincy asked coolly. He took up his coffee again.

Lobo shook his head. “No. Not yet, anyway. That bank you told me to look at. It’s _gone_.”

Quincy started coughing. He grabbed a napkin and pressed it to his mouth. When he could breathe again, he grasped Lobo by the back of the neck and pulled him close. His teeth were clenched. “ _What did you say_?”

“It burned to the ground three months ago,” Lobo replied. His chin trembled and his eyes were as round as the plates on the table. “We had no way to tell you until now.”

Sticky nodded vigorously.

Fino had the sensation of falling. “That can’t be right! Were you looking at the right bank? It was the First Union Bank.”

Lobo extended his hands. “That was the one. When we got there, there were only ashes left. People told us it burned down!”

Fino’s stomach churned and she regretted her breakfast. “There has to be some mistake! Are there maybe two banks with the same name?”

Lobo shook his head. “There was only one. It was an accident, they said.”

Quincy stood up suddenly and tossed his napkin down. He threw a few bills on the table for their meals and stalked out of the room. Fino jumped up and followed, and the others came behind her.

They were going upstairs to their rooms when Fino called out to him. “Quincy, wait! We need to talk about this!”

He stopped at his door and whipped about. Anger burned behind his hazel eyes. “We’ve been had. It was never the First Union they intended to take!”

“How could that be? I heard them say—“

“It could be they were using some sort of code. They substituted the real town and bank names with false ones to throw off eavesdroppers. Like you.” He slammed a fist against the door, rattling a painting that hung on the wall nearby. “I _knew_ something wasn’t right. All the signs were there. It should’ve been obvious!”

Fino had never seen Quincy this angry. She stepped away from him. _I messed up. Again!_ “I-I’m sorry, I—“

She felt Lobo’s hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault. The Black Eagles are tricky,” he said.

Quincy leaned against the door for a few seconds, and then straightened. He ran hand through his hair and took a moment to collect himself. “He’s right. If it had been me there that night, I would’ve believed them, too. We’d still end up here.”

“Then what bank could they have possibly meant?” Fino asked. She felt helpless now that they were back where they started. “We still don’t know which one it is!”

Quincy put a finger to his lips to shush her. He opened the door to his room and directed his friends inside. The room smelled of Quincy’s cologne, and Fino noticed his rumpled bed sheets. Items from the shaving kit were strewn over the vanity table and near the wash basin. Garments spilled out of his suitcase and his black hat hung on the end of a bedpost. Quincy was well groomed this day, but his room sure wasn’t.

He shut the door behind them with a soft click. “The bank has to be in Murdoch,” he said. “The camp is close enough. Alternate and the safecracker were sniffing around, and there’s at least one bank I know that fits the description of having guards.”

“Do you think the Black Eagles have already struck?” Fino inquired with worry.

“I don’t know.”

It seemed the chances of saving Alternate from the noose were getting slimmer and slimmer. Fino wanted to stop him before he committed another robbery. “We should go back, then. Let’s get our stuff together and ride out as soon as possible.”

“It’s faster by stagecoach.”

“We don’t have time to wait for one!”

“It’s longer still to ride back on horses. We’ll take a stage.”

Lobo shrugged. “He’s right, _amiga_.”

Fino suppressed the urge to sob. She was so frustrated that it threatened to break that hard shell she had carefully crafted over the years. _Pull yourself together! Alternate’s life is at stake!_ “Okay, fine. When’s the next stagecoach coming?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Quincy replied. “The other one already left this morning.”

Fino cringed in disappointment. “What will we do until then?”

Quincy leaned on the wall next to the door, his arms crossed. “We wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to anyone who can figure out why Quincy was uncomfortable with his room.


	25. Chapter 25

What a wretched turn of events. As if being in Silver Ridge wasn’t bad enough, now they had to go all the way back to Murdoch. They’d wasted so much precious time, and it only benefited the outlaws. The Black Eagles may be ahead of them already.

Quincy lay on the bed. He’d unbuttoned his waistcoat and loosened the string tie. Maybe acting like a dandy hadn’t been such a good idea after all. He’d only managed to attract the attention of the ladies, and maybe drawn the suspicion of some men. He’d hoped the restaurant would be safe enough since it was mostly filled with travelers. Only long-time locals would recognize him, and the hotel was new and managed by staff who wouldn’t know him.

If someone recognized him, it could spell trouble.

There was a soft knock at his door. He lifted his head with a creased brow and waited until the knock came again.

“Quincy?” came a hushed voice. It was Fino. He would slap her silly if she was coming to apologize again. She had no reason to.

He got up and opened the door a crack. “Something the matter?” he asked. He was annoyed by how pitiful she looked.

“I just can’t sit still,” she said. “Can we go somewhere?”

“You can’t go by yourself?”

“I—I don’t want to be alone.”

“Take Lobo or Sticky.”

“I thought maybe we could go see the bank for ourselves.”

“What for? There’s nothing there.”

A spark suddenly entered her eyes. “You’re coming with me.”

“I’m not going.” He was about to close the door when she thrust out her foot and stopped it.

“You’re coming with me whether you like it or not,” she said. “You’ve been gloomy ever since we got here and I’m tired of it. You need to get out for some air.”

Quincy sneered. “You think I want to breathe this poisonous miasma? This town is Hell itself.”

Fino wasn’t convinced and kept her foot in the door. He couldn’t just smash her foot, so he hesitated.

“What do you have against this town anyway?” she asked impatiently. “When are you going to tell me?”

Quincy bit back a harsh response. “That’s a private issue. It’s not something you need to concern yourself with.”

This only seemed to ruffle her feathers. “You’re hiding.”

“Of course I’m hiding!”

“You go strutting around like an elk in rut, but really you’re too afraid to show your face in this town.”

Quincy stopped. Now he understood what she was trying to do. He opened the door and braced his hands on the doorframes. As he leaned over her, he saw the color bloom over her cheeks. It was good to see that fight back in her spirit.

He eyed her with amusement. “What did you call me? An elk in rut? That’s a mite strong, don’t you think?”

“No. I think it suits you.” She glared at him in defiance. “Fine. I’ll go by myself, since you would rather stay in your hole.”

She turned on her heel and started down the hall. Quincy saw that she didn’t carry a weapon. A young Indian girl wandering around this town alone without a means to protect herself? Normally he would’ve jumped at the opportunity to escort a pretty girl, but knowing Fino she might take offense. She wasn’t looking for protection.

He growled to himself and quickly buttoned his waistcoat, tightened the string tie, and slicked back his hair with his hands. Locking the door after him, he rushed down the hall and joined Fino as she was walking down the stairs. She didn’t look surprised when he arrived. They left the hotel together and started down the street.

_Nothing good can come of this._ But she’d convinced him. She knew how to prick a man’s ego, a marvelous skill for a girl her age. He had no idea how she was able to do it.

“You don’t know the way,” he said as an excuse. “Might as well take you there myself.” He gave her a sidelong look and saw a brief smile cross her lips. Victory was hers.

They ambled down the street in the late afternoon. The roads were busy with pedestrians and wagons. Men were returning from the mines, and the saloons were swelling to life. Horses lined up at the hitching rails with hardly any room to spare. Quincy didn’t want to stay out long. If Fino wanted to see the burn site, he’d make sure they only took a quick look and returned to the hotel.

He led Fino down a side street. It was a more roundabout way to get there, but he might be recognized on the main thoroughfares. The bank was located on a major road near City Hall and the courthouse, the heart of the city and where most of the buildings were made using sturdier materials like brick. There also used to be a cathedral there, but, coincidentally, that building had also burned to the ground. Quincy may have been dismayed that the bank was gone, but at the same time he felt a sort of satisfaction. However, he had to wonder what could’ve happened. If things hadn’t changed since he left Silver Ridge all those years ago, he could offer a pretty good guess.

Quincy stayed alert and kept near to the girl when they finally reached the right road. They didn’t speak with each other. Quincy was too busy taking note of how much the city had grown. They passed where the cathedral used to be, and his heart sank. Instead of rebuilding the church, the townspeople had chosen to build a saloon, a blacksmith, and a mercantile. In fact, where many churches and businesses used to be, other businesses had replaced them. Quincy found this alarming. Things had definitely _not_ changed since he’d last been here.

A three-story building came into view with narrow windows and constructed in light colored bricks. Rising above its roof was a pointed clock tower.

“City Hall,” Quincy commented. “We’re not far now.”

Across the street was the red and white courthouse, standing at four stories. An American flag fluttered weakly from a pole on the roof.

Quincy was beginning to wish he’d brought a hat to at least conceal some of his face.

They walked another block. There was a gaping hole in the line of buildings along the street, like a missing tooth from a row of teeth. Blackened bricks were scattered over the site and some had been collected and piled in a high, haphazard mound in one corner. A coating of gray ash could still be seen on what used to be the floor. Some wooden frames had managed to survive, but more closely resembled fragile skeletons that could disintegrate with a single touch. The safe containing the bank’s money had already been removed. A clear spot toward the back of the site indicated its old home.

Fino whimpered as she took it all in. “This is just a nightmare.”

“Stop beating yourself up,” Quincy said. “It’s not over yet.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching them. Not only should he have brought a hat, but also a revolver. “Now you’ve seen it. Let’s go back.”

He saw Fino run the back of her hand over her eyes. Was she crying now? “I feel like we won’t make it in time to Murdoch.”

“Whether we do or not isn’t going to stop us from going after them.”

“But Alternate—“

“Don’t worry about him. He’s going to be fine. Just trust me and Sheriff Dawson to get things taken care of.”

Fino shook her head as she gazed at the bank’s black grave. “I couldn’t fulfill my end of the deal. I didn’t get the name of the real bank—“

Quincy got down on one knee and put his hands on her small shoulders. He lightly shook her. “You _need_ to stop this. By being here, we know now where the real bank ought to be. There are only a few in Murdoch and only one large enough to need guards. We know where it’s at.”

A tear escaped Fino’s eye, but Quincy brushed it away. She pushed his hand aside. “Stop treating me a like a kid,” she said.

Quincy stood. “I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t act like one sometimes.”

Fino bristled at first, but then deflated. She did call him an elk in rut earlier. “I’ll try not to.”

He turned her to lead her back down the street when he halted abruptly. Cantering down the street were two horses pulling an enclosed carriage. The carriage’s black lacquered sides gleamed in the slanting sunlight. Quincy couldn’t see the occupants inside, but he suspected he already knew.

“We’ll go this way,” he said quickly, turning Fino in the other direction. But he stopped again when he spotted a man walking down the street toward them. He was a tall man with a thin face, gray mustache, and white hair neatly parted down the middle. He wore a fine dark gray suit with a silver chain dangling from one of the side pockets. The man hadn’t noticed the pair yet, so Quincy grabbed Fino and hurried into bank’s ruins where they ducked behind the tall pile of burned bricks.

The carriage and the man passed without noticing, and Quincy sighed with relief. When he felt Fino squirming beside him, he released her. “Sorry,” he said. He’d had her pressed against his side to keep her from talking. She always did ask too many questions, always wanting to know what was going on.

Fino sputtered. Her face was bright red. “D-Don’t do that again! What’s the matter with you?”

“Those men… Had they seen us, we certainly would’ve had to leave right away.”

“Why? Do they know you?”

Quincy glanced around at the ruins. There would be no harm in telling her, and he always knew that. It just seemed irrelevant to their goals. That, and for years Quincy had thought that by never speaking of what happened in Silver Ridge would somehow permanently relegate the incident to the past. It was best to let the place rot until it blew away in the wind like the ashes of Sodom and Gomorrah. This was one area where Quincy had to let God have vengeance. The problem was too big for one bounty hunter to handle.

“Something bad happened here, didn’t it?” Fino asked, sweeping her eyes over the burned lot. “Did those men you saw have something to do with it?”

She was intuitive enough to almost be dangerous. Quincy scratched at his head as he raced to make a decision, mussing his perfect hair.

“I can’t be certain,” he admitted. “I do know, however, that the man who owned his bank was a close partner to the man we saw on the street, who happens to be a judge at the courthouse. He was also partners with the man who was possibly in the carriage. That person is the mayor, or at least he _was_ the mayor the last time I saw him. I don’t know how much has changed.”

Fino’s brows came down. “Did they have a fight? Maybe someone had the bank burned on purpose?”

“That could be, but this isn’t the first time it’s happened.”

“How do you figure?”

_Here we go._ “Because I know for a fact that others were burned. I used to live here.”

Fino didn’t seem surprised. “I was just beginning to wonder about that. Did Shade have something to do with it?”

“A small part. He was just a pawn, really, but he likes to think he was something more.” Quincy resisted the need to sit down. He didn’t want to get his nice suit dirty. He’d paid a lot of money for it.

“I was born in Silver Ridge,” he continued. “When you told me the bank was here, I dared for a moment to let the Black Eagles have their way with it, but I knew that no matter where Shade ran, I would have to follow.” Quincy listened to the sounds beyond the brick pile. He heard horses trotting along and imagined the carriage passing by again. It made his skin crawl to think about that coffin on wheels. “Believe it or not, Shade was the sheriff here.”

Fino gasped. “An evil man like him? How?”

“I’ll never figure that one out,” said Quincy. “Even back then this town was a mess. Tax evasion, embezzlement, extortion, blackmail, theft of mining claims, murder… The list goes on. My parents had been with the town since its founding, but never had things been this bad. They knew the mayor and some prominent citizens were in on it. Those who resisted lost their homes, businesses, land… They were threatened, beaten, and killed. When local clergy tried to band together to stop it, they saw their churches burned in mysterious fires, and some clergy lost their positions because malicious rumors had started to spread. My mother was the last one standing.”

Quincy took a moment as he tugged uncomfortably at his string tie. Now came the hard part. He hated remembering. “Those still brave enough to fight stuck with her. It was unusual because she was a female pastor, but that didn’t matter anymore. The mayor and his cronies got scared because it seemed my mother was gaining ground, which meant the right authorities would have them hanging by the end of a rope, but…they had one more plan they could use.”

“Shade,” Fino said, her face grim.

“You’re good at this.”

“Let’s just say I know what treachery looks like.”

Quincy felt the sweat on his forehead. They needed to be getting back soon. The longer they stayed, the riskier it became. They didn’t want to get tangled up in the nightlife here.

Fino watched him carefully. In her eyes he could see sympathy. Another one of her attributes was that she could keenly sense when someone was suffering. “So they used Shade to…hurt your mother.”

“He kidnapped her under the mayor’s orders.” Quincy scowled at the memory. “He came to town when I was about seventeen. People thought he was a good man, but he was just a good actor. I believed him—for a while.”

“What happened?”

“I began to notice things, cracks in his façade, and I wasn’t the only one. Soon one of his deputies began to call him out on it. Shade dropped his act and it became known that he was just one of the mayor’s many puppets.” He squinted at the ruins. “The deputy didn’t last long after that. When he was gunned down, I grabbed his rifle and tried to kill Shade. I failed, but I swore I’d use that gun to stop him someday.”

“That’s the golden rifle you have, the Lead Messenger?”

Quincy gave a sad smile. “That deputy… Apparently he was someone famous in the military at one point. It’s a Sharps rifle. With years of practice, I can now shoot a man from almost a mile away.”

Fino frowned. “That’s how you’ve been able to pick off the Black Eagles. They probably can’t even see where you’re shooting from. Why haven’t you shot Shade yet?”

He really wished she hadn’t asked that question. “I just…haven’t had a good opportunity. I can never get a clear shot.” Quincy peered around the brick pile. “We need to leave. We don’t want to be out here when things start getting crazy.”

They left the ruins at a brisk walk. Quincy scrutinized each person who passed them, but he didn’t see anyone he knew. Throngs of people were filling the streets and streaming into saloons and parlor houses. More “respectable” businesses were closing up, and thus the more respectable citizens had gone into hiding. Out of instinct, Quincy guided Fino with his hand behind her shoulder. He felt her twitch at his touch.

The trip back to the hotel seemed longer than the trip to the bank. Quincy was growing nervous. Every bark of laughter caused him to jerk his head in its direction. Gunshots were heard in the distance. The crowd thickened the lower the sun dropped in the sky. How could he have risked exposing himself like this? He should’ve held his ground earlier when Fino demanded he go with her. But then Fino would’ve gone out alone in this. He couldn’t decide if it was better or worse that he’d decided to go.

The side road had fewer people, but the saloons were bursting with life. At one particular parlor house, women were lounging in the windows on the second story. Some stood along the balcony. A few windows had their curtains drawn, and the shadows being cast upon them suggested the ladies already had company.

The two had plenty of time to reach the hotel before dusk, but the crowd slowed their progress. Quincy now had a grip on Fino’s shoulder out of fear of losing her in the burgeoning masses. People kept bumping into them, and he wouldn’t be surprised if they were actually pickpockets. The only thing of value he had on him was the pocket watch, but it remained secure in his waistcoat.

At last they could see the hotel. Quincy sighed with relief. He lessened his grip on Fino’s shoulder, but his hand stayed.

Going from the street to the hotel lobby was like moving from one world to another. The lobby was quiet and calm. There were a few people checking in at the front desk, but they looked like decent people and Quincy found no reason to worry. He and Fino bounded up the stairs to their rooms.

“When you get inside,” he said, “make sure your window is securely shut and close the curtains. Do not leave—no, don’t even look out the window.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Fino said. She rolled her eyes and inserted the key into her door.

Quincy unlocked his door. “Maybe it would’ve been better had we shared a room.”

Fino whirled around. “Wh-What?”

“For safety,” he replied.

“You mean for _my_ safety.”

Quincy stopped and stared at the key in his lock. _Oops._ “For both our safeties. Two can defend themselves better than one.”

“Are you expecting trouble?”

“I…” He thought for a second. “I suppose not.”

Before he could step into his room, Fino spoke. “Um, Quincy?” She was looking down at her feet. “Thanks for going with me.” She lifted her eyes to meet his. “I mean, thanks for everything. It’s just that without Alternate, I’ve felt…”

“Lost,” Quincy finished.

“And helpless.” Fino took a breath as if admitting it aloud had been difficult. “The man who killed my parents also killed Alternate’s father. We’ve been looking for him together. That’s why I want Alternate to return home with me. Without him, I feel like we’ll never catch Blush. I feel…alone.”

“But you’re not.”

Fino blinked and gaped at him with wonder. “Do you really mean that?”

“I told you before that I’ll help you find this Blush. You’re not alone.” He regarded her with compassion. “I am sorry to hear about your parents.”

Fino bowed her head, looked up again, and nodded with a thankful smile. Without another word, she went into her room and closed the door.

Whatever Alternate’s reasons were for joining the Black Eagles, Quincy was convinced they were all foolish. The young man had abandoned a good friend and a tough partner. There was no better friend in the world than one who understood your pain. Quincy felt that connection with Fino, even though their circumstances were slightly different. His parents were still alive. Hers were dead. But they were both looking for justice for what happened to their families. Tonight they had made themselves vulnerable to each other by sharing these parts of their lives. Perhaps by building such trust, they could both get through this mission together.


	26. Chapter 26

Sleep did not come easy to Fino that night. She stared at the ceiling, replaying the events from earlier that day in her head. She couldn’t focus, and her thoughts bounced from Quincy to Alternate and back again.

She would clutch handfuls of the bed sheets whenever she thought about getting back to Murdoch. A heavy pressure weighed on her chest as anxiety slowly consumed her. There was no way she could get there fast enough. Despite what Quincy had said, she didn’t want Alternate to get involved in another bank robbery. She needed to prevent any further damage he might cause to himself.

Fino sighed. Her eyes ached from trying to force herself to sleep. The window was locked and the curtains drawn, but she could still hear people outside, laughter and yelling and faint conversation. The time was well after midnight. How long did these night parties last?

She tossed and turned for several more minutes before settling on her back and spreading her arms. She sighed again. Tomorrow would be difficult if she didn’t get any sleep tonight. Was Quincy sleeping well?

 _You’re not alone._ It was something she’d been longing to hear, and hadn’t realized it. She was amazed she’d actually told him she felt alone without Alternate, but he had shared his story with her, and she felt safe to be open with him.

Fino started sweating and kicked off the sheets. The room was warm. Opening the window would solve that problem, but she didn’t dare. Somewhere out there a gunshot resounded. It made Fino wonder about how extensive the corruption was in this town. She couldn’t blame Quincy for abandoning it. Apparently he’d had no help to save the town. She wouldn’t want to be a hero no one appreciated, either.

For a second she thought she saw a shadow slip by the window. No, that couldn’t be. Her room was on the second floor. There was no way someone could scale the side of the building. Was there?

Fino turned over. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind, and finally her body relaxed, but she was jolted awake when she heard a thump. It wasn’t a loud thump, but enough to make her pause. In the light that escaped through the curtains, the room was still empty. The noise could’ve come from the room below or the one next to her, or the one across the hall—

Fino threw off the sheets and reached for the Zodiac. She loaded it by rubbing a dried scorpion on it from her pouch. As an extra precaution she grabbed her tomahawk.

She opened the door and peered into the hallway. All was dark. The noise from outside was closed off here, and the thump didn’t come again. It could be nothing. Fino smiled wryly. _Maybe Quincy fell out of his bed._ She’d like to see that.

Of course his door was locked. Fino didn’t want to set him off by knocking. He’d tease her that she was afraid of the dark, and then provoke further embarrassment by asking if she’d like to sleep in his bed. He’d mean it in jest, but it made Fino have thoughts she didn’t want to be having.

The memory of the shadow and the thump compelled her forward. She had to make sure. Placing her ear against Quincy’s door, she listened. At first there was nothing, but then a low voice was heard muffled behind the door. Fino couldn’t tell if it was Quincy, but if it was, why was he talking to himself?

Another thump, this time followed by a series of other sounds. Fino’s pulse quickened as alarm surged through her veins. She knew then that Quincy had to be in trouble, but there was no way she’d be able to get into his room without blasting it down with the Zodiac, and that would be far too destructive. Her tomahawk wouldn’t be of much use against the thick door.

Fino ran back to her room and opened the window. Of course! She’d completely forgotten about the narrow balcony! Someone could climb to the balcony and make it to the window of any room. Fino slipped out her window and could see that Quincy’s was open. There was a faint glow coming from the room. She crept closer, stopping just before the window to listen. The voices were only whispers now.

Bringing her gun close, Fino peeked into the room. There were three people, Quincy and two unknown men. To her horror, Quincy was on the floor while one man straddled him with a hand clamped over Quincy’s mouth. A knife glinted in his other hand, drawing dangerously close to Quincy’s throat. The bounty hunter was only dressed in his jeans. His guns were stashed out of sight, and it didn’t appear either of the strangers had them.

Fino had to stop and think. If she went in shooting, she could hurt Quincy. Even if she went in secretly but startled the men, one of them might hurt him on impulse.

Fino’s mind raced. _What do I do? What do I do?!_

_I made Quincy go to the bank with me. Someone saw him, and that’s why these men are here. If he hadn’t gone out, this wouldn’t be happening._

_Beating myself up isn’t going to rescue him. I have to think. I can’t lose him!_

Fino took a quiet breath to still her heart. That’s when she noticed the aura emanating from the Zodiac. The gun was warm to the touch, and the glow grew brighter. Startled, Fino could only stare. Was something wrong with it?

There was a low chuckle, deep and threatening. They were going to kill Quincy, but they were going to make sure he saw it coming. Fino could imagine the knife against his throat, and the pool of blood that would bloom around his head to soak his dark auburn hair. His eyes would stare lifelessly at the ceiling, fixed with regret at a goal he’d failed to accomplish. Justice undone.

And she remembered the little pictures he drew in his book, the ones of her lying in bed, unconscious and helpless.

The Zodiac was almost too hot to hold. Fino juggled it from hand to hand until the temperature lessened. Then, as she readied herself, the gun cooled completely.

There was no other way. She had to protect Quincy.

Fino sucked in a breath and put herself in front of the window. She brought up the gun, and waited.

The men were too preoccupied with Quincy to notice her. The man straddling him still had the knife at ready, but the other man had begun to search the room. He tore the sheets off the bed and dumped out Quincy’s belongings from the valise and suitcase. He passed over a wad of money that had been carelessly left on the dresser. So it wasn’t money they were after. These weren’t common thieves.

Finally the man reached under the bed and pulled forth the gun case. He also found Quincy’s revolver and bullets, but these he tossed aside. He went for the gun case. The men grinned when they saw the gleaming barrel of the Lead Messenger.

 _How could Quincy have been so foolish?_ Fino wondered. _He should’ve kept his guns close at hand._

“Stop right there,” she demanded. “Get up!”

The men jerked their heads up. They turned to look at her curiously, and started laughing. Quincy could only move his eyes to see her. A dribble of dark blood cut a trail down his neck and onto the floor.

“You think I’m kidding?” Fino snapped. How annoying! They saw a girl with a toy gun, and not a young woman wielding a dangerous weapon. They would regret that. “I said, _get up_ ,” she reiterated. “I don’t want to say it again!” Her finger put the slightest pressure on the trigger.

Still chuckling to themselves, the men put their hands up and rose to their feet. Quincy’s chest heaved with relief, but he made no more movement.

“Unless you want to be rendered lame for the next few days, I suggest you get out of here,” Fino told them. “I’m feeling merciful at the moment and will let you leave in peace, but try anything funny and I won’t hesitate to shoot.” Which was the last thing she wanted to do, actually. Using the Zodiac Gun in such close quarters could lead them all to injury, and draw attention to Fino and Quincy in ways she’d rather avoid.

“Whatever you say,” the man standing over the gun case said, his voice saturated with sarcasm. He gave her an exaggerated bow with a wide sweep of his right hand—and yanked out his pistol from his left hip.

The first shot whizzed past Fino’s ear. She fell back and struck the railing behind her. The second bullet lodged in the railing just inches from her body. Her first instinct had been to throw her arms up in self-defense, but a single, sharp vibration strummed in her chest like a chord. For just a few seconds, the world around her seemed to stop. Fino blinked. The vibration pulsed down her arm to her trigger finger. She squeezed.

The Zodiac bucked in an explosion of light. The faint outline of a female figure with long hair was visible as the bullet drove for the men. The figure spread its arms, and the bullet split in two, rising up over the assassins. The bullets came back down and struck both men, smashing them to the floor. The boards crunched and snapped with the impact.

Fino stood stunned. _That wasn’t a Scorpio bullet!_ The path of the bullet had almost taken on a heart shape, not the springing motion of a scorpion stinger.

Quiet descended with the men unconscious on the floor. The glow from the bullet remained, and hovering over Quincy was the female figure, her arms spread over him as if to protect him. She stared down at the bounty hunter.

Fino remained cautious. She did not know how or why the bullet had fired, nor did she know what kind of bullet it was. There was no knowing what it might do if she approached. She stood and waited as the figure faded. Even after it was gone, Fino could still see the afterimage burned into her vision. She then ran for Quincy and helped him his feet.

“You have some explaining to do,” Quincy told her.

She snatched up his rifle and tossed it to him. “Can we talk about it later? We need to get out of here!”

“You don’t need to tell me that!” He found one of his shirts on the floor and quickly put on his boots. He then swiped the money off the dresser.

Fino made for the door, but Quincy grabbed her shoulder and pushed her back to the window. “There may be more of them downstairs,” he said. “They’ll be expecting us to leave that way.”

“But—“

He pushed her again. “Go!”

They ducked out the window and onto the balcony. The people in the street were oblivious to what had happened inside the hotel. The party continued. Men and women reveled in the road and in saloons, singing and getting off gunshots. Fino leaned over the railing and wondered how she would get down. Quincy answered that for her. He swept his legs over the railing and shimmied down one of the supporting posts. When he reached the ground, he held his arms out to encourage her. _I’ll catch you if you fall,_ he seemed to say.

Fino swung her legs over the rail. The drop had to be around fifteen or twenty feet. She’d never been scared of heights, but she couldn’t afford to get hurt if she fell. She was thankful for all those years of climbing trees as she made her way down the post. Quincy reached up as she neared the ground to help her down. Then they ran.

“I left all my things back at the hotel,” Fino complained as she ran alongside him.

“You have your weapons,” Quincy reminded her. “That’s all you’ll need.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. _You still took your money_. She was glad she at least remembered to put her moccasins on before leaving her room. “I’m guessing I don’t need to ask why those men were after you.”

Quincy cracked a grin.

He led her to the stables where the horses were waiting. They saddled their steeds as fast as they could, and then rode out through town. The crowd in the street slowed their speed to a canter.

“Where are we even going?” Fino asked.

“Away from here,” Quincy answered. He kept looking over his shoulder. “I know a part of town we can go to. Hopefully, if it’s still the way I remember it, it should give us some refuge.”

“What do you mean if it’s still the way you remember it?”

“It’s the part of town my family used to live in, before things got bad. I may still have some friends there—that is if they haven’t all been murdered already.”

He led Fino through the streets until at last the crowd began to thin out. The homes were becoming more residential. As the pair turned down another road, the rowdy noise from the revelers faded into the distance. The street was deserted compared to the main thoroughfare. The windows were dark, their curtains drawn, and the moonlight reflected off the panes. Fino glanced around with apprehension, the solitary echo of the horses’ hooves only serving to emphasize how empty the world now felt. But in every shadow and around every corner, an enemy could be waiting and watching, biding their time for the right moment.Fino kept her hand on her gun.

No matter how many times she went over it in her mind, Fino couldn’t understand why the Zodiac had fired a different bullet. It was as if something else had overridden the power of Scorpio, but the gun had never done that before. She didn’t know it _could_ do that.

 _But what sort of bullet was it?_ Each bullet had a unique behavior, and most of the twelve bullets had already been fired, so it should be easy to narrow down.The real question, however, was how in the world Fino had managed to load the gun with different essence in the first place. By some accident she had put essence into the gun without realizing it. Where had it come from?

Quincy stopped his horse and dismounted. Fino followed. They led their horses toward a white house. Like the other homes, the windows on this one were dark. They hitched their horses at a rail out front. As Quincy stepped lightly up the stairs toward the door, Fino asked, “What place is this?”

He paused on the porch and stared at the door before answering. “I’m not even sure they still live here, but the last time I was in town the people who lived in this house were friends of my family. When my family left, they stayed. I guess they thought they could still do something.” He knocked.

There was no answer, which wasn’t surprising since it was the dead of night. Quincy waited a few more seconds before knocking again. This time, a light shined in one of the windows. A lamp was being carried toward the door. There was the sound of locks being unlatched before the door opened a crack. Out of that crack came the barrel of a pistol.

“Who’s there?” demanded the gruff voice of a man. “Who the hell do you think you are, waking us at this hour?”

“It’s me, Hoot,” Quincy whispered.

The man at the door hesitated, and then the door was flung open. The short, heavy set man with black hair and a grizzled beard stared back at Quincy with large dark eyes. He saw the Lead Messenger in his hand. “Qu-Quincy? What in the blue blazes are you doing back in town?!”

“I can tell you inside,” Quincy replied, looking over his shoulder. “We need to get off the street.”

Hoot was wary. “Why should I let you into my house? What if someone followed you? Do you know what they’d do to me?”

“No one followed us,” Quincy assured him. “It’s just me and the girl here.”

Hoot craned his neck to see Fino behind the bounty hunter. “And you’ve got a girl to boot! What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“I said I would explain.”

Hoot took some time to decide, looking from Quincy to Fino, and then back at his house. “Fine. But not for long, ya hear? I’ve managed to outlast the others for good reason!” He stepped aside and let them enter.

When the door was shut, Hoot turned up the lamp to allow more light. The parlor was small, indicating the overall size of the house. Aside from two chairs, a low table, and the worn rug, there was an upright piano along the far wall. Beside it was a door leading to another room. An open doorway on the right adjacent wall led down a short hall, and across from that was another closed door.

Hoot turned to them. He was wearing a long blue nightgown. “I thought after what happened last time you’d never come back.”

“It was by mistake that I came here,” Quincy said. He went to the window and nudged the curtain aside with a finger to see outside. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have returned.”

“By mistake?” Hoot repeated. “How do you wind up back here _by mistake?_ ”

Quincy went on to explain about the Black Eagles’ bank robbery scheme. “So you see, I’m supposed to be in Murdoch, not here. Someone must’ve found out I was here and tried to kill me.”

“Moulton,” Hoot growled. “Can you believe he’s still the mayor? Sad part is, those elections probably _weren’t_ rigged!”

“I don’t care,” Quincy said brusquely. “I wouldn’t care if this town was torched by the Black Eagles—or Satan himself.”

“How can you say that?” Hoot asked, startled by the words. “This is your home—“

“Not anymore,” said Quincy. “It hasn’t been for years.” He changed the subject. “Listen, we just need to be here until sunrise. After that, we’ll leave. We’re taking the stagecoach out of here to reach Murdoch in time.”

“Her, too?” Hoot said with a gesture of the lamp toward Fino.

“Yeah.”

“But, why? Who is she?”

“It’s none of your business, Hoot.”

“Ohhhh. I thought maybe she might be your lover or something. She’s a bit young, don’t you think?”

Fino crossed her arms in annoyance.

Quincy drew his hands to his face. “That’s _not_ it!”

“Oh, okay. Good. I don’t want any trouble.” Hoot leaned in to whisper. “I just didn’t know how Oralee might react.” His eyes shifted about.

Quincy was astonished. “She’s still here?”

“I am,” came the reply near the piano. Standing in the doorway was a young woman in a white nightgown, holding a lamp, its yellow gleam highlighting her round face. Her long, dark brown hair fanned out around her shoulders.

Quincy straightened. “Um, maybe we shouldn’t have—“

“Don’t be silly,” said Oralee. “I heard what you said.” She stopped and her eyes widened. “Quincy, you’re bleeding!”

He looked down at his white shirt which was now stained with dark splotches. The cut on his neck had also leaked over his collar. Fino moved around to see, pulling at his shirt to get a better look. He brushed her hands away. How had she not seen it before?

“It’s nothing,” Quincy said.

“Nothing?” Oralee echoed incredulously. “You’re wounded! What on earth have you been up to?” She paused and gave Hoot a pointed look. “You can’t go back out there, so you’ll have to stay here. It _won’t_ be a problem. Papa, go back to bed. I’ll handle this.”

“If it’s okay with Oralee, then it’s all right with me,” Hoot concluded with a shrug. He brought up a finger. “But this is dangerous, I tell you. If they find out—“

“We _know_ , Papa,” Oralee said. She exchanged a long stare with her father before he turned and left the room.

Oralee was younger than Quincy, slim, and had soft, dark eyes. Fino had to wonder how they knew each other. Quincy swallowed, appearing nervous.

The young woman directed them to a tiny room. There was an empty bed with a straw mattress, and only a narrow strip of floor along the wall to put one’s feet. On the back wall was a window, its curtains shut.

“This used to be my grandmother’s room before she passed away,” Oralee explained. “She didn’t need much, so she slept here. You two can use it.”

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Quincy said. “There’s enough room.”

“If there’s any trouble, go out the window,” Oralee instructed. “It leads out back behind the houses.”

Fino didn’t think she’d be able to sleep after what happened earlier. She was too wound up, and every creak and groan of the settling foundation would sound to her like someone trying to get into the house.

“Thank you,” Quincy said. “We’ll be going to sleep now.” He swiftly turned to go into the room.

“Wait,” Oralee said, grabbing his sleeve. “I’d like to speak with you.”

Quincy sputtered. “We can talk in the morning.”

“Please?” Oralee’s eyes begged him. “I may not get another chance.”

The bounty hunter looked at Fino. She shrugged. “I suppose…” he grumbled.

They left Fino alone in the room, and she watched the glow of the lamp fade down the hall toward the parlor. The house was small enough that the glow was still visible where Fino stood. Low voices drifted toward her, and the conversation turned heated. Despite their whispers, Fino could still hear them.

“Why did you leave us alone?” Oralee asked. “We can’t fight this without you.”

“We’ve been fighting for years!” Quincy shot back. “This town was doomed long ago. There’s no saving it now! It’s beyond saving.”

“It’s all about Shade!” Oralee spat. “You left us alone to chase your own revenge. You left us to rot.”

“It’s not revenge—“

“Yes, it is! And it’s _selfish_!”

Silence. Fino took a steady breath and listened.

Quincy’s voice trembled. “Do you think I believe my mother was Shade’s only victim? I’m not just doing this for her. I’m doing it for everyone he’s murdered, maimed, and mutilated. I _am_ doing this for you—for everyone! I may not be able to save this town, but I can at least bring some measure of justice for what’s happened to us.”

“A _small_ measure,” Oralee countered. “It’s not going to do anything for this town. Shade hasn’t been here for years. How is killing him going bring down Moulton and his demons?”

Quincy didn’t seem to have an answer.

Rapid footsteps came down the hall, and Fino rushed to get on the bed and appear asleep. Quincy came into the room and nearly slammed the door. The straw in the mattress crackled when he sat down at the foot of the bed. He removed his boots and tossed them to the floor with loud thumps. Fino opened her eyes. She could barely see his form. He was hunched over, motionless.

Oralee had a point, but she didn’t seem to understand that Quincy wasn’t interested in saving Silver Ridge anymore. But had he been heartless to abandon the friends who still lived here? Or was it more selfish for those friends to think he needed to stay and risk his life every day trying to oust a tyrannical regime?

Fino recalled when she and her friends had fought against the Syndicate. Everyone should’ve died in that battle, but they hadn’t. That was because they hadn’t fought alone, but together. By herself, she might’ve given up before she started. Not until she had friends to support her did she have the means to find Blush, let alone destroy the Syndicate. It had no longer been impossible.

Fino sat up slowly. “It’s not impossible,” she said softly.

He jerked around. “What? I thought you were asleep?”

“You act like this town is beyond saving, but I don’t believe that.”

“So you were listening?” Quincy scoffed. “The only thing that can save this town is God.”

“Oralee believes in you.”

Quincy chuckled. “I’d be amazed if she really did, even after…”

“After what?”

He looked at her as if to weigh what he was about to say. “Oralee used to fawn over me like a lovesick schoolgirl, because she was. But when it started becoming apparent that I didn’t want to take the lead anymore, she decided I wasn’t worth all her gushing waterfalls of adoration.” He shook his head. “Didn’t matter to me anyway. But if she does still believe in me…she’s a fool. But she’s right. I only care about getting Shade, and the main reason is for what he did to my mother.” Quincy ran a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t care less about this town.”

Fino had never stopped to think about what Blush had done to others besides herself. Yet she didn’t think she was being selfish. Her hunt for Blush was mainly to get revenge for her parents. Fino saw her own healing as secondary, but was it really? Perhaps revenge for her parents and herself were one and the same. And what about all those people Blush had murdered, all those Indians, and whites, too? Were they included, even if Fino had never considered them? Her brain was turning inside-out trying to figure it out.

“If no one else, I believe in you,” Fino said. “This town isn’t beyond saving. I know, because I’ve been up against impossible odds and still beat them. I just didn’t do it alone, and that’s what made the difference.”

“But I _was_ alone,” Quincy retorted. “I led but a few stragglers, and they had long since lost heart. I was fighting the battle alone and they knew it.”

He went quiet and didn’t move for a time. Taking a deep breath, he said, “But forget that. It’s in the past. Let’s just focus on the task at hand. We leave at first light tomorrow. The stage station isn’t far from here. We’ll get on the first stagecoach back to Murdoch.”

Fino felt a little hurt that he hadn’t reacted to her encouragement. “Okay.”

Quincy turned again, suddenly remembering something. “By the way…”

Fino flinched. “What happened earlier?”

“Yeah...”

She sighed. She’d lost count of how many times she’d had to explain the Zodiac Gun to people. After recounting the origin of the gun and its twin, the Eto Gun, Fino said, “I’ve thought about it, and the bullet may have been a Virgo. I wonder if my touching the gun had somehow loaded it, but I don’t know if it’s because I’m female or because…” She wavered. “Or because I wanted to protect you.” It had to be the latter. Just being female would’ve loaded the gun every time.

Fino had been educated about the Western zodiac prior to using to gun, but it didn’t mean she knew how a bullet would behave, or how the gun could be loaded with essence. Contact was key, but with _what,_ she didn’t always know. Most of the time she was just guessing.

“I’ve never used that bullet before, but why then…I can’t be sure,” she said. She’d wanted many times to protect people, including Alternate and Yaghi, but never had she fired a Virgo bullet.

Quincy said nothing. It may have been lot to take in, or maybe he was scared? Fino could imagine how fantastical it all sounded, almost ridiculous. Did he not believe her?

“I-I know it seems really bizarre, but it’s all true!” she said to ease his concerns. “So, you see, I can help you find Shade and stop the Black Eagles.”

Quincy didn’t answer. He sat on the edge of the bed in thought. Fino became aware of how close he was sitting to her. She could’ve reached out and touched his shoulder, felt the warmth under her fingers. They were alone in this dark room together, the closed door giving them privacy. Fino was almost embarrassed, and yet she savored the opportunity. Anyone else would’ve thought it scandalous, but Hoot and Oralee hadn’t given it a second thought. Did they really think Fino and Quincy were lovers? Fino shook the thought from her mind. That’s silly. It wasn’t like that between them.

“Let’s get some rest,” Quincy said. He sounded tired. Rising from the bed, he went to lie down on the floor. Fino felt bad that he had to, but even if they were allowed to share the room together, lying on the same bed was out of the question.

 _Not that it matters anyway._ It was strange she actually felt disappointed about that. Did she want Quincy to like her that way?

When his breathing deepened in sleep, Fino peered over the bed to look at him, thinking about the possibilities.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Virgo bullet was one of the few bullets not used in _Et Cetera_. I took one of the ideas presented in the extras at the end of Volume 9 and put my own spin on it.


	27. Chapter 27

The reflection that stared back at him from the tarnished mirror was drawn with fatigue. With his hands braced on the edges of the table, Quincy dropped his head and watched the droplets of water as they fell from the tip of his nose to plop into the basin. The liquid within was gray from cleaning his face after shaving, and his eyes followed the ripples.

The muffled voices of Hoot and Oralee could be heard through the walls from the dining room. He hadn’t bothered to join them yet. Instead, as soon as he rose from a night of restless sleep, he’d headed for the wash room. Fino had still been asleep, but he chose not to wake her. He was concerned about her physical condition, even though she hadn’t complained last night about any discomfort.

Quincy straightened and examined the cuts on his chest. They were shallow. He knew it was a mistake to neglect them last night, because even a minor cut can turn into a nasty infection. He picked up the soap bar near the basin and rubbed it on a wash cloth dampened with fresh water from the pitcher. Two cuts on his abdomen had stopped bleeding, but one a few inches below his right collar bone started again when he dabbed at it. Red mixed with gray in the basin.

The two men sent to kill him had opened the window at the hotel without a sound. They had taken Quincy by surprise and had him on the floor before he could fight back effectively. His guns had been hidden beneath the bed, a stupid thing to do. He should’ve kept one by his bedside. He’d been certain the men would kill him, until Fino showed up. Then he’d been certain they would kill her, too.

He’d had no idea she possessed a weapon like _that_. Sure, the gun was weird looking, but its power was wholly unexpected. Her explanation of where it came from and how it worked had mystified him. Quincy was almost inclined to call it the power of the Devil. But it had saved his life—no, _Fino_ had saved his life. She’d known he was in trouble. The bullet that passed over him had left him in a cocoon of warmth and peace, and he felt safe.

The wash cloth was cold on his skin, but it was soothing on the cut which was beginning to form an irritated welt. He would have to be careful from here on. Seeing a doctor anywhere in this town was too risky. He and Fino would have to leave as soon as she awoke. Hoot and Oralee would offer breakfast, but that was the only delay Quincy would allow.

As he kept dabbing at the cut, he saw the door open in the mirror’s reflection. Fino poked her head through, and her eyebrows came together with concern when she saw his injuries.

“I didn’t realize…” she started.

“They’re minor,” Quincy said.

The door opened and Fino stepped in. Quincy put the cloth down and gave her a disapproving glare. “Why do you always insist on coming in and watching me?” he asked.

“Let me see,” Fino offered, coming around to stand next to him.

“I can take care of it. I don’t need you to—“

Fino pried the cloth from his hand and took up the pitcher to rinse it. He saw her eyes settle on the reddish water in the basin. “Next time I won’t ask you to risk yourself,” she told him. She wrung the cloth and went to apply it to Quincy’s cut. She had to reach up to do it.

“You don’t need to do this,” said Quincy. “Go into the kitchen and get something to eat.”

“I want to do this,” Fino replied. She rinsed the cloth again and pressed it against the cut.

Quincy gave up and let her do as she pleased.He noted the color that came to her cheeks. After a few minutes the cut stopped bleeding and she rinsed the cloth a final time and set it down. A small towel lay in a heap beside the basin, and she lifted it to his chest. Quincy became uneasy and gently pulled the towel from her hand.

He cleared his throat. “I think I know why your gun fired that, uh…”

“Virgo bullet?”

“Yes. If I remember correctly, Virgo is associated with nurturing.”

Fino looked surprised. “You know about it?”

“I have a little learning, yes. My parents had a lot of books, and I like to read.”

Fino glanced off to the side as she thought about it. “You mean…because I’m nurturing, the gun fired a Virgo bullet?”

“Because you want to nurture _me_.” Quincy showed the towel as a case in point.

The color in Fino’s face turned a shade brighter. “What? I-I wanted to help you, but—“

“You wanted to protect me, like you said. You saw me on the floor with a knife to my throat, but now you’re doing this to me.” He cocked his head. “There may be a little more to it than simply wanting to protect me. You can do that any day.”

Fino shook her head. She was becoming flustered. “I don’t—I don’t know what you mean.”

“You talked about how the gun is loaded. I get the impression that whatever strong emotions you possessed for me while touching the gun, they became the bullet.”

Fino blinked several times as she realized what he was getting at, but she said, “Wh-What are you suggesting exactly?”

“To put it simply, how you felt for me loaded the gun.” Quincy put the towel down and went for his shirt that hung on a hook on the wall. Earlier he had scrubbed the blood stains with a bar of detergent soap and ran the shirt over a washboard, and after several attempts the stains vanished. The shirt was still damp, and so he draped it over his shoulder. He awaited Fino’s response.

Her mouth opened and closed like a gasping fish out of water. It took her a minute to find her voice. “Well, I—I _was_ worried. I didn’t want to see you get hurt. Maybe my desire to see you safe is what loaded the gun?”

Quincy narrowed his eyes. “You said that already.”

“Well, it’s true!”

“But I told you it was more than that.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

Quincy let her grow uncomfortable under his steady gaze. She averted her eyes, not knowing what more to do. She looked to the basin and he knew she wanted to offer to empty it, just to stall.

He put hands on his hips and leaned over her. Fino shrunk away from him. “What I’m suggesting is that you have a _strong affection_ for me,” he said.

While he expected Fino to be embarrassed to the point of death, she relaxed. “But all the times with Alternate…”

“I’m not suggesting anything between you and your friend,” said Quincy. He paused. “Or lack thereof,” he amended. He backed off. He’d been hoping to somehow force the answer out by embarrassing her, but had her reaction been a confession all the same?

“You do understand what I’m saying, though, don’t you?” he asked, crossing his arms.

Fino’s head snapped up. That rosy hue returned to her complexion. Her hands grasped and twisted the hem of her buckskin cape. “Well—I—I do like you.” She winced like someone had pinched her. “I’ve come to like you more, so maybe that’s why…”

Was that all? Quincy doubted it. She was either dodging his question or refusing to admit the truth to herself. He’d been around enough women and girls throughout his life to know what infatuation looked like. But Fino’s willingness to risk her safety to help him last night, and the bullet that resulted, that wasn’t simple infatuation. It was much stronger than that. He could feel it in the aura of that spectral woman the bullet left behind.

Quincy took his shirt and held it up to inspect it. He turned to look at the mirror. “Go get something to eat. You’re annoying me,” he said.

Fino seemed to swell up in anger. “What?! I came in here to help you!”

“I don’t need your help. You’re just bothering me, with your ‘I was only worrieds’ and ‘I do like yous’ and ‘I don’t know what you’re talking abouts’.” In a grumble he added, “You don’t know your own feelings. You’re still a girl.”

Fino gaped at him indignantly, looking as if she’d been accosted by a lewd drunk in the street. “H-How dare you?! I’ve been a woman longer than most girls my age in my village, _and_ I’m more mature. I know myself better than you think!”

“Then how come you don’t understand why you fired that bullet last night, hm?”

“Because I…” Fino squeezed her eyes shut and balled her fists at her sides so tightly she began trembling. “I—I don’t want to talk about it anymore!” Scooping a handful of dirty water from the basin, she splashed it in Quincy’s face. She then stormed out of the room, slamming the door to where it rattled the mirror. Quincy wiped his face with the towel as he listened to her stomp off toward the kitchen.

 _Well, that didn’t work, either,_ he thought. But the answer was obvious, and so was the reason for her reluctance to answer him. If she admitted her feelings, then she might believe she was betraying Alternate.

None of it was a problem for Quincy, however. Fino could feel whatever she wanted, whether for Alternate or for him, it didn’t matter. As long as they were able to capture Shade, Fino could fall madly in love with him and beg to marry him. _All I care about is getting Shade_. And maybe all that money he could make in bagging the Black Eagles. With Fino’s gun, that would become more of a possibility.

Quincy smiled to himself as he thought about it. Perhaps Fino’s feelings for him could be put to good use.

 

* * *

 

Fino was aware of Hoot and Oralee’s stares as she dropped down in a chair at the kitchen table, glaring at the placemat in front of her.

 _Damn it, Quincy! Why did you have to do that?_ The tangle of confusion she’d felt several days ago had now become a rock-hard knot, impossible to pick apart. Quincy had prodded her until she almost burst, and had she done so she would’ve regretted every word, and maybe even this alliance to begin with.

 _I need to see Alternate again._ If she could only see him— _speak_ with him, then all this would go away. Right?

Oralee’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Fino, are you okay?”

Fino looked up. “Y-Yes! Yes, I’m fine.”

“You look a little upset.”

“No, I’m okay.”

Oralee wasn’t convinced. “I thought I heard some arguing. Is Quincy giving you a hard time?” She reached over to spoon some scrambled eggs from a pan onto a plate. For the first time, Fino noticed the food on the table. There was a pan of scrambled eggs, two plates with bacon and rolls, and a pitcher of water. The smell hit her, and looking at the eggs and bacon made her stomach roll.

“No meat, please,” Fino said quickly. “I don’t eat meat.” She pointed at the stack of rolls. “Those will do.”

Oralee took a few plain ones and passed them to Fino. She then filled a glass of water for her. “It’s a mighty brave thing to be chasing after those outlaws,” Oralee said. “I’m sorry they threw you off their trail.”

“It’s a mighty brave thing to be doing anything with Quincy,” Hoot added. “That boy, he can be crazy sometimes!”

Oralee’s expression hardened. “Could we _not_ talk about Quincy, please?”

Hoot clammed up and went back to his food.

Oralee knew what was bothering Fino. She was seeking to keep her mind off it. “So why in the world are you doing it? Are you a bounty hunter, too?”

Fino gave her an incredulous look as she was about to take a bite of a roll. “Of course not. A friend of mine is with the Black Eagles. I’m trying to get him out.”

“Is he being held hostage?”

“Well, no. I just don’t want any lawman to catch him first. Quincy says he can help clear his name.”

Oralee was surprised at this. “I see. I’ve heard of the Black Eagles. Their leader is notorious.”

Fino took a bite of her roll and swallowed before responding. “I met him once,” she said. “He seems like a reasonable man, but he’s still an outlaw.”

Oralee nodded. “People talk about him like he’s some kind of Robin Hood.”

“Robin—what?”

“You don’t know who Robin Hood is?” Hoot asked, his eyes wide with amazement.

Fino shook her head.

“The story goes that Robin Hood was a bandit who stole from the rich to give to the poor,” Oralee explained. “He’s what we call a folk hero. Even though he was a bandit, he was regarded as a good man because of his kindness toward the poor.”

“You’re saying the leader of the Black Eagles is somehow similar?” Fino asked. She was skeptical. A thief was a thief in her book. “This is all new to me. Quincy never said anything about this Robin Hood or whoever.” In fact, he hadn’t said a word about what kind of man Holloway was.

Oralee snorted. “Sometimes Quincy lives in a world of black and white morality.”

“I have my objections to that,” Hoot mumbled over his plate of eggs and bacon. “He can be pretty ambiguous.” Fino tried not to watch him eat. It only made her think of the poor animals that had to die to feed this big man. His eyes shifted to Fino as if anticipating her question, but she decided to follow Oralee’s lead and keep the topic off of the bounty hunter.

“So the leader steals from the rich and gives to the poor?” Fino asked. “How so?”

“I’ve only heard stories,” Oralee admitted. “For instance, I heard about what happened to that town where his gang robbed a bank. People said a few days later, in the next town over, bags of money were sitting on the steps of an orphanage. The sheriff investigated and found that the money came from the bank that had been robbed.”

Fino’s jaw dropped. “All of it?”

“No. Some of it was still missing, and has never been found.”

“What happened to the money they did find?”

Oralee shrugged. “They probably gave it back to the bank owners. I’ve heard similar stories of stolen money and goods turning up in towns among the poor after the Black Eagles strike.”

Fino didn’t know how to take this new information. A charitable outlaw? No, she’d been among the Black Eagles. They were ruthless killers. They wouldn’t have hesitated to kill her had it not been for Alternate, and why would Holloway let someone like Shade into their midst? Fino was convinced the Robin Hood act was a false one, probably meant to steer public opinion in favor of the gang.

_But why would they set fire to a town? Wouldn’t that make them look bad?_

“I never knew any of this,” Fino said. She pushed forward her empty plate, but she stared at the crumbs as she thought. Not even Alternate mentioned anything, and he would’ve been the first to defend the man he believed to be his father.

“The missing money was probably distributed through the gang,” Oralee said. “They wouldn’t rob a bank and not at least take a portion of the money for themselves. Giving some of the money to the poor is probably the leader’s idea.”

Fino agreed with her. “But being generous with his loot isn’t going to stop the white man’s law.That’s why I have to get my friend out of there.”

Oralee’s brow creased at this comment. “Does he want to get out?”

Fino gave her a proud smile. “No, but if the gang is captured, then he won’t have a gang to be in. That’s why Quincy and I are going to stop the robbery. That way we can capture the Black Eagles.”

Hoot and Oralee exchanged concerned glances.

“What’s wrong?” Fino asked. Seeing their expressions gave her a bad sense of premonition, feeling like a leaden ball had been dropped in her stomach.

Hoot was the first to speak after a moment’s hesitation. “Usually outlaws are worth more if they’ve actually stolen something.” He scratched at his beard. “Bank robbers are worth quite a lot.”

“But you’re saying Quincy plans on stopping the robbery?” Oralee asked.

Fino looked at each of them as she began to understand what they were insinuating. But she didn’t believe it. “Well, yes. We can’t let the Black Eagles strike again, and I don’t want my friend to get involved again. The gang has to be brought to justice.”

Their conversation was interrupted when Quincy entered the room. His shirt was still a little damp and was badly wrinkled, but he didn’t seem to care. He took a seat at the table and wordlessly began piling food onto a plate.

“Good morning to you, too,” Oralee whispered over a cup of coffee. She rolled her eyes.

“We’re leaving in ten minutes,” Quincy said tersely.

“As soon as you’re done eating,” Oralee quipped. She simpered as she brought her coffee up again.

Quincy stopped and glared at her, but didn’t reply. He returned to eating his food. Fino felt her stomach clench again as she watched him.

“We were just discussing the Black Eagles,” Oralee said to Quincy, “and how their leader is something like Robin Hood. It seems Fino here has been left in the dark about a lot of details.” She gave him a cold stare.

Quincy had cleared his plate in record time. He put a napkin to his mouth and said, “Holloway’s character is irrelevant to how we’re going to catch the Black Eagles. She didn’t need to know any of that.”

“Actually, it might be helpful,” Fino said, “to me, at least. Why does Holloway do that? Give money away, I mean. I thought people like him stole for keeps?”

Quincy had stuffed a roll in his mouth and shrugged without an answer.

“Swallow that and answer me!” Fino demanded.

The bounty hunter sighed and swallowed the roll. “I don’t have a clue why he does it, and I don’t care to know why. All I know is that Holloway is a dangerous man and has a price on his head. Good enough reason for me to go after him.” He grabbed another roll and gestured with it at Oralee. “And don’t compare him to Robin Hood. Holloway’s not even remotely like him. I wouldn’t exactly call the Black Eagles a band of merry men, either.”

Oralee shook her head and went back to her breakfast. “Think what you will.”

Fino’s heart constricted. Quincy hadn’t been completely open with her about all the information on the gang. Perhaps he’d been right that the topic was irrelevant, but something about it made her wonder if this characteristic of Holloway had some influence on why Alternate refused to leave. Where Gordy had been greedy and hoarded his gold, Holloway was giving away riches—albeit not his own.

A funny thought crossed her mind, of Holloway stealing Gordy’s gold and giving it away to the poor. Would the outlaw leader have stolen the sacred mountain’s treasure and given it back to her tribe? Fino almost chuckled to herself, wishing that he had.

Quincy wiped his mouth one more time before tossing the napkin back on the plate. “Let’s go,” he said. As he went to stand up, there was a knock at the front door. Everyone froze. Quiet descended in the room.

The knock came again. Everyone looked at each other, silently asking if they should answer it. Oralee stood, giving Quincy an emphatic look, but he shook his head quickly. She glanced to the side and gave the look again. When Quincy refused to answer the door, she opened her mouth to speak, but Fino stood and said, “Fine, _I’ll_ do it!”

Quincy tried to grab her as she walked out of the kitchen and into the parlor, but she pushed him away. He whispered for her to stop, but the knock sounded again and Fino was determined to see who it was. If it was someone looking to finish what they started the last night, they wouldn’t be politely knocking. Fino was sure it wasn’t an enemy as Quincy apparently feared.

She yanked the door open, and standing with his fist poised in the air was Lobo. Sticky stood behind him. The big man appeared surprised that Fino had answered the door, but she was just as astonished. “How did you know where to find us?” she asked.

Quincy rushed in beside her with a grin. “Lobo, Sticky! I knew I could count on you!”

“You weren’t even going to answer the door,” Fino told him. “Had I not, he would’ve thought—“

Lobo presented two stuffed canvas sacks. “We got what we could before anyone became suspicious.”

Quincy snatched up one of the bags, crouched on the floor, and opened it. He pulled out his revolvers, gun belt, some clothing, his black hat, and the pocket watch. Relief flooded his features as he fished out the small book, rubbing his thumb over its worn surface as if to sooth its worries of being left behind.

Fino was busy watching him when Lobo presented the second sack to her. “We have yours, too,” he said.

He’d done well, because she found everything she left at the hotel, including her medicine bundle. “How’d you get in?” she asked with wonder.

The big man shrugged. “We snuck in. The lawmen were everywhere, but Sticky and me, we’re good at sneaking.” He gave her a wink.

“Great,” Fino grumbled. “Now I bet everyone knows what happened last night. They’ll be looking for us.”

Quincy closed his sack. “Let’s get our things together. We’re leaving.” To Lobo he said, “Thanks. Next bounty I bring in, I’ll give you double the usual—both of you.”

This brought a grin to Lobo’s unshaven face. Sticky was also pleased.

Lobo began rubbing his hands together with greedy glee. “Where to now, boss?”

“Back to Murdoch,” said Quincy. “Now, we have a stagecoach to catch.”


	28. Chapter 28

It was a relief to take the stagecoach instead of riding horses. The trip to the station seemed lightning quick, and there was no soreness from riding in the saddle for hours on end. Alternate hadn’t been able to acquire another horse due to time constraints, and he figured Fino and the bounty hunter were already in Silver Ridge. Still, he and Tony kept watch out the windows for any travelers who happened to pass going in the opposite direction. They gave up when the sun went down.

After the stagecoach driver blew a horn to herald their arrival at the station, Tony asked, “Are we going all the way to Silver Ridge? What if we don’t meet them on the road?”

“We will,” Alternate said. “They’ll come rushing back when they find out it’s the wrong bank.”

“Then they’ll want to travel by stagecoach, then,” Tony reasoned. “If we meet them on the road—“

“We won’t be on the road,” said Alternate. The stagecoach stopped, and the lanterns up front swayed. Lights hung outside the station. An old man emerged from the front door, wearing overalls. His wrinkled face, hooked nose, and cold stare made him appear ominous.

“I don’t understand,” Tony said, her delicate eyebrows coming down. “We only have one horse.”

The drivers began to unfasten the ropes holding the luggage to the roof. As the coach rocked with their movements, Alternate said, “We’re not going further. In the morning, we’re heading into the hills to wait. Fino and the Preacher’s Kid will have to stop at this station if they’re traveling by coach back to Murdoch.”

“And then we’ll…?”

Alternate set his jaw. He looked away from her and out the window. “I’d like to try and get the bounty hunter alone. I don’t want Fino involved, if we can help it. I wouldn’t want to accidentally shoot her, or her shoot _me_.”

“You don’t want her to see what you have to do,” Tony pointed out.

Alternate almost cringed. If Fino witnessed him killing the bounty hunter… _She’d never forgive me. She’ll really think I’ve turned for the worst_. But had he? He wasn’t killing the bounty hunter because he _wanted_ to. In days past, he did take pleasure in seeing his nemeses fall to ruin, even death. These days, however, he realized he’d become more sensitive and reluctant to take a life. There was a limit to his compassion, though. He had trouble having mercy on someone the likes of Shade.

Without addressing her comment, he said, “We’ll watch the station and wait.”

“But how will we get the Preacher’s Kid alone?” Tony asked.

“We watch and we wait.”

“You mean you don’t have a plan?” Tony said with an incredulous look. “Nate, that’s not like you.”

“I’d rather wait and observe their movements. We may have to trail them. I’m not worried about getting the bounty hunter alone. He has to pee sometime. I doubt Fino will be standing there next to him when it happens.”

Tony grimaced. “I guess you’re right. I’m just…”

“Skeptical it’s so simple?” Alternate said. He grinned at her.

The safecracker’s Cupid’s bow lips turned up in a knowing smile.

They disembarked and gathered their luggage. All the while the man in the overalls watched them with a stony face. He gave the two companions a brief greeting as they walked up to the station.

“The beds are to your right. Breakfast is at six-thirty a.m., and the coach leaves at seven sharp,” he said. Before he allowed the pair through the door, he added, “No guns. Take your weapons to that chest there.” He pointed to it on the far wall. “You can pick them up when you leave in the morning.”

“What?” Alternate blurted. “What sort of a rule is that?”

“My wife’s,” the old man replied matter-of-factly. “She’ll know if you don’t put them in the chest. She doesn’t like ‘em.”

Grudgingly, Alternate unbelted his revolvers. Tony did likewise. The old man went to the shelves containing mismatched dinnerware. He grabbed two small burlap sacks that hung from hooks below the shelves. He handed them to the travelers, his message obvious. Alternate and Tony took the sacks and put their guns inside. Before they placed the bags in the chest, however, Alternate stuffed a few money bills into the sack along with some coins. He then pulled forth the comb.

“Are you sure?” Tony asked when she saw it.

“If he’s going to ask us to put our valuables in a box, might as well,” Alternate said dryly.

Tony decided against it. She placed her sack in the chest and Alternate followed. Without another word, the old man disappeared and left them alone.

In the room with the cots, Alternate dropped his bundle with a blanket and some clothes on the floor next to his chosen bed. Tony took the one next to him, sliding her valise under the cot. She went to lie down and the cot creaked under her.

“Nice place to actually have cots!” Tony said in awe. “Most places I’ve been to only have a dirt floor to sleep on.”

“And to think we have to spend tomorrow night outside,” Alternate said as he sat down. He removed his shoes, thankful for the relief. He wondered if the station also had a room for bathing. “If Fino and the bounty hunter left Murdoch the same day we left to go back to camp, and they’re not here, then I can conclude they’re in Silver Ridge right now.”

Tony gave him a sharp look. “Why would they spend two nights in Silver Ridge?”

Alternate shook his head. “I have no idea.” But really, he couldn’t be certain they weren’t already on their way back. They could come in late, and catch him and Tony sleeping. What would he say to Fino then? He had to believe he was right, that they were in Silver Ridge.

He was still grappling with Fino’s betrayal. It was out of her character. She’d always been open and honest about her feelings, and had never been afraid to speak her mind. All during the ride to the station, Alternate had been trying to unravel the mystery of why Fino would team up with the Preacher’s Kid. What in the world could she gain by doing that?

_If she really does love me, then she wouldn’t be doing this to me._ He lay back on the cot and looked up at the ceiling. How did he really feel about her now? In Murdoch, he felt emotions rekindled. But he wondered if the feelings never died in the first place. They were more dormant than dead.He’d begun focusing on a different task and put those feelings behind him, believing it was pointless to hold onto them. After that, he met Tony again and his heart was renewed. It was refreshing to have someone reciprocate his feelings after months of waiting in agonized uncertainty for Fino to respond. Perhaps he hadn’t been forward enough and should’ve taken the risk of jeopardizing their friendship to confess how he felt. _It’s my fault I didn’t say something sooner. I should’ve pursued her when I had the chance, regardless of whether the villagers approved of it._ But now he agonized over a different problem: Whether or not it was too late to try again.

Alternate glanced over at Tony. She was already asleep. He got up and reached over for the blanket and covered her. She mumbled something but didn’t awaken. He would’ve removed her boots for her, but he didn’t want to wake her. She didn’t sleep in the stagecoach from the time they left Murdoch to when they reached the station. As long as Alternate was awake, she was awake. She never let herself have any respite until she knew he could have his.

It wasn’t a question of whether or not it was too late for Fino, but too late for Alternate. _Did_ he want to try again, when he had this beautiful young woman already? Could he bring himself to break Tony’s heart to try and win Fino’s again? He knew Fino would be more than happy to reinitiate what they had before. _Until she sees what I’ve done to the bounty hunter. If she sees me kill someone…then she may decide I’m not worth it anymore._

Alternate regarded the safecracker again. She knew what he had to do. She didn’t seem to like the idea, either, but knew why he had to do it. And even when the deed was done, she’d still stand by his side to see his mission through. What more could he ask for in a partner? What better lover could he possibly seek? Ever since he’d walked into the Black Eagles, she’d given him unconditional loyalty.

He hadn’t come to any conclusions when he put his head to the pillow and fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, they nibbled on their breakfast of stale corn bread but avoided the rancid bacon. It was typical of station food, as sometimes fresh food wasn’t delivered often and kept around so long it eventually went bad.

The driver and his guard were up before the passengers and were outside getting the coach ready. The front door was open and sunlight streamed in through the windows to spill over the kitchen table. The morning air was cool and lapped at Alternate’s ankles. He picked at a piece of bacon with a tarnished fork that appeared almost a hundred years old. Tony used a knife to dissect the bacon on her plate. She leaned over and sniffed it.

“Makes me miss home,” she remarked with a crinkled nose. “Our bacon was good.” The morning sunlight washed over her blonde hair and made the silken locks gleam like burnished gold. It was amazing how it could stay that way even after a long and dusty stagecoach ride. Alternate lost interest in his bacon as he marveled at her hair.

“I’ll catch something for dinner tonight,” he promised.

“We may have to catch something as soon we leave.” Tony pushed her plate aside and took a drink of water from a clay cup. “At least the well water is good.”

“Despite the food, this place is actually pretty nice,” Alternate said. He’d taken a bath earlier and felt refreshed, but he’d been hoping for a better breakfast. “But it’s empty for a stage station. I wonder if that man and his wife live here alone.”

Tony pointed at him with her fork. “That’s what I was wondering, too. Most stations have some stockmen, but I haven’t a seen a single other person besides ourselves and the driver and the guard. Doesn’t seem like a good idea for an elderly couple.”

“Seems foolish,” Alternate agreed. “This place is remote. Why would the keeper and his wife do this alone?”

“I get a funny feeling from that guy,” Tony whispered. “He’s so cold.”

Speak of the devil. The old man walked in, saw their plates put aside, and went to grab them up. His unchanging, brooding countenance may as well have been carved from solid marble. His wavy hair was white, and the silver stubble on his jaw showed that he hadn’t shaved in a few days. Alternate thought the man looked drawn and gaunt, and very unhappy. The keeper puttered along and didn’t acknowledge his guests. He disappeared behind a door to what was likely the kitchen.

“See what I mean?” Tony whispered again.

“He just looks…sad,” Alternate said. Then he began to wonder, about the lack of stockmen or any other kind of help. The keeper hardly spoke a word to the driver and his guard, and yet the men didn’t seem to mind, like they knew what sort of man the keeper was and had chosen not to bother trying to converse with him.

“Maybe they want to be alone?” Alternate muttered under his breath.

“What?” asked Tony.

“Never mind.” Alternate shook his head. “It’s almost time to leave. Let’s—“

He was interrupted when the door to the kitchen swung open and a woman in a wheelchair rolled out. She was around the same age as the keeper, probably her fifties. Her salt-and-pepper colored hair was braided into a long plait over her shoulder. When she saw Alternate and Tony, her kind but weary face lit up. She was a beautiful woman. Crow’s feet touched the edges of her eyes and lines of laughter were evident beside her full lips. Above prominent cheekbones her eyes were a startling gray, with long lashes that were still thick and dark.

The woman rolled her chair up to the table. Over her lap was a quilt. Alternate found it unsettling that the blanket didn’t reach the footrest. It looked like she had no feet. Judging by the way the blanket fell over her knees he guessed she was an amputee.

“I wanted to catch you before you left,” the woman said with a gentle smile. Her eyes looked tired, but her spirit was lively. Had she any legs below the knees, she would probably be buzzing about their table, serving them food and making chitchat. But there was something just below the surface, some residing brokenness of soul that bowed her shoulders and threatened to tear down that friendly, maternal smile she wore.

On the woman’s lap was something wrapped in a red and white checkered cloth. She opened it to reveal two large cubes of pemmican. “I made these not long ago. Take them with you on your way,” she told them. She set the meat on the table for the pair to take.

The pemmican looked delectable. “We would be happy to,” Alternate said. “Thank you, Missus…uh…”

“Call me Delora,” the woman said, showing her white teeth. She was delighted that they accepted. “I am sorry for my husband’s coldness. Boris has been troubled lately.”

“It seems you’re alone out here,” Alternate ventured.

A small giggle bubbled up from Delora. “He’s not much of a people person—or at least not anymore. We seem to be able to handle things on our own.”

Alternate had to wonder about that. The station, although well-kept inside, didn’t seem to get the same treatment outside. The stables were nearly in ruin and the outside of the station could use a few repairs. What did the old man do all day when there weren’t any passengers to serve rotten food to?

“This looks great!” Tony gushed as she pulled the pemmican closer. She picked up a cube and sniffed. “It smells great, too. I can’t wait to try some.” Her cheeks were rosy with excitement. “It’s very nice of you to give us some.”

“I hope it can satiate your hunger until you arrive at… Where did you say you were heading?” Delora asked.

“Silver Ridge.”

Delora’s cheerful spirit vanished like smoke. Her smile dropped and her eyes looked from Alternate to Tony with apprehension. “O-Oh,” was all she could say.

There was more than one stagecoach trail that led from the station to different settlements in the area, but why this one name bothered Delora was a mystery. Alternate had heard rumors that Silver Ridge was an outlaw’s paradise, so maybe that was it.

“We’re just going there for one day—to visit someone,” he lied. “After that, we’ll be heading back to Murdoch. We might even come back this way.”

Delora appeared tongue-tied. She looked down at the floor and seemed lost at first until Tony said, “Don’t worry. We’ll be okay. We can take care of ourselves!”

Delora nodded weakly. “I suppose you can… But be careful. Silver Ridge is an unlawful place.” She expelled a shaky sigh. “My son is there right now.”

“Does he live there?” Tony asked.

“No, he’s visiting… Well, not quite that, but he’s there.” Delora shuddered and pressed a hand to her forehead. Tony was alarmed at this and got up from her seat to kneel in front of the woman. She placed a hand on Delora’s knee, unperturbed by the missing shins.

“If he’s in Silver Ridge, then he must be strong, too,” Tony soothed. “Only the strong survive in Silver Ridge.”

Delora’s shoulders shook. At first it seemed as if she would begin sobbing, but a bitter chuckle escaped her lips. “The strong certainly do survive in Silver Ridge.” Her bitterness subsided and she appeared sad. “I hope my son returns soon. He’s only putting himself in grave danger by being in that wretched town.”

“Was he here recently?” Tony asked.

“A few days ago, yes. He came here with a young Indian girl. A kind young girl...”

At the reference of an Indian girl, Alternate jumped up from his chair, almost knocking it over. Delora looked at him inquiringly, but Tony directed the woman’s attention back to her.

“That _is_ interesting,” Tony said, maintaining her composure. “Did he say why he was traveling with her?”

Delora shook her head. “Only that she was going to help him with something.” She closed her eyes, as if trying to shut something out. “It’s always about outlaws with him.”

Tony stole a quick glance at Alternate. “But I’m sure he’ll be home soon,” she offered, “safe and sound.”

Alternate took a breath to still his racing heart. “I think the coach is getting ready to leave now. We ought to get going.” He picked up the pemmican and wrapped it in the cloth. “Thanks for this. We appreciate it.” He was about to turn away and grab his belongings at the door when he heard Tony clear her throat. He stopped. “Oh, yeah…”

The keeper had to be paid for his services, and the guns were still in the chest. Alternate was so disturbed by the conversation that he had become eager to leave. He went to the chest and found the sacks untouched since last night. He rummaged through his to find some money.

Alternate couldn’t seem to get his fingers around some coins. “Tch!” He upturned the bag and dumped out his guns, belt, money, and the comb. Scratching up some bills and coins, he counted them in his palm and then stood to face Delora. “I thought I had more than this,” he said, “but I think I have enough.” He placed the money in her hand. Actually, he’d given her more than what was due the keeper, but he’d felt moved by her generosity. And he felt like a repulsive pile of horseshit for what he had to do to her son. But all the gold in Gordy’s hidden stash wouldn’t be enough to repay Delora for the impending heartbreak. It was going to kill her.

“You’re such a kind young man,” Delora replied, that gentle spirit returning to her. “May God bless you and your friend on your journey, and protect you in Silver Ridge.”

“And we thank you for your hospitality,” Tony returned.

Alternate handed Tony her sack, but as he went to grab his own, someone outside called to them. “We need to git goin’! Time’s a’wastin’!”

“Oh, the coachman,” Delora mumbled, craning her neck to see out the door. “You’d better hurry, or they’ll leave without you.”

Alternate rushed to replace the items in his sack, and by the time he finished, Tony was already boarding the stagecoach. He followed to join her.

 

* * *

 

The stagecoach rumbled down the road and out of sight of the station. With the windows shut against the dust, the inside of the coach was dim. Only light escaping around the curtains allowed any illumination. The atmosphere reflected the darkness that clouded Alternate’s heart. Tony sat across from him and watched with concern. He had to wonder if she had been as affected by Delora as he had. But she had said nothing since boarding the coach. Perhaps, like him, she was too afraid to discuss it for fear that they may develop a sympathy that would militate against their mission to kill the bounty hunter. Silence reigned in the coach as each of them was lost in thought.

“Her legs,” Tony said suddenly.

Alternate looked up. “Hm?”

“Her legs,” Tony repeated. “I wonder how she lost them.” Her tone was infused with implied knowledge.

Alternate shrugged, having not a clue.

Tony exhaled a deep breath as she glared at him. “You didn’t think about that? Nate, this woman is the mother of the bounty hunter we’re looking to kill—“

“I know that!” Alternate snapped, but Tony continued undeterred.

“ _Listen_ ,” she pressed. “There’s something you ought to know. The bounty hunter didn’t used to give the Black Eagles such a hard time. The gang existed well before he showed up.”

Alternate removed his monocle to examine the coating of dust on the lens. He blew on it to remove the largest particles, and then gingerly wiped away the excess. “What’s your point?” he asked.

Grated by his irritable tone, Tony scowled. “My _point_ is…I think it’s relevant that the Preacher’s Kid didn’t start bothering us until Shade showed up.”

The monocle slipped in Alternate’s fingers and tumbled to the floor. It rolled on its edge and disappeared under Tony’s seat. She reached down into the shadows and felt for it until she brought it out.

Alternate shook his head in disbelief. “Are you meaning to tell me that the bounty hunter is actually after Shade?”

“It’s just a guess, but after seeing Delora…”

Alternate held out his hand for the lens, and Tony complied. He replaced it and said, “Shade’s bounty isn’t nearly as high as Holloway’s. In fact, I can think of three men right now who have higher bounties than Shade.”

“Only by a slight margin,” Tony countered. “I’ve only heard about some of the things Shade has done, but I don’t know where he came from. I just know that after he was accepted into the gang, the Preacher’s Kid began targeting us.”

Alternate had to think about that. It could be a coincidence, but if Holloway had gone this long with a high bounty, and the Preacher’s Kid was just now targeting the Black Eagles, then there might be something to Tony’s reasoning.

Then he thought about Delora. It was obvious the Preacher’s Kid was her son. And her legs… They were amputated at the knee, and she was such a sad, forlorn creature that it was apparent her depression stemmed from this old injury.

_Shade’s specializes in torture,_ Alternate remembered. What if Shade had been the one who cut off Delora’s legs, which enraged her son to where he became a bounty hunter to find Shade? It seemed plausible, but that’s all they had to go on, plausibility.

_If that’s true, then all this trouble is because of_ him. Alternate was incensed. Shade was the reason he on this trip in the first place. What would Holloway think of all this? Would he throw Shade out of the gang to minimize danger from the bounty hunter? Anger was transformed into victorious glee. _I might finally have something I can use against him!_

“Are we still going through with this?” Tony asked.

“Of course,” Alternate replied. His mind was still celebrating his newfound leverage against Shade. But wait. If he killed the bounty hunter, then that would eliminate the threat, and it wouldn’t matter anymore that Shade is the Preacher’s Kid’s main target.

_But Holloway is expecting this of me. I can’t go back and tell him I chose not the kill the bounty hunter because of Shade._ The outlaw leader wouldn’t stand for it, even if Shade is the cause of the trouble with the Preacher’s Kid. It doesn’t mean Quincy Phillips will just go away once Shade is out of the picture. Holloway would see Alternate’s refusal as failure to obey orders. _And then_ I’ll _be the reason the bounty hunter is still on our trail, because he’s still alive._

“Nate?” Tony said. She leaned forward to see him better.

“We have to keep going,” Alternate told her at last. “We have to kill the bounty hunter.”

A look of disappointment crossed her features momentarily, but then disappeared behind a mask. “All right. I’ll stand behind whatever decision you make.”

Satisfied with his choice, Alternate moved to her seat and opened one of the window curtains. He poked his head out and blinked against the onslaught of dust. He spat out dirt, but managed to yell, “Stop the coach!”

The coachman’s guard was sitting closest to him and threw him a glare. “What?!”

“I said stop the coach. My friend and I want to get off here,” Alternate explained over the clattering of the wheels and horses.

“We can’t just stop the coach!” the guard argued. “We’re on a time schedule here.”

Alternate pulled back inside and went for the burlap sack. Taking out one of his pistols, he made sure the cartridges were loaded.

He leaned out the window again and pointed the gun at the guard. “I said stop the coach! Don’t make me do this!”

The guard gaped at him. He nudged the driver, and the other man had a double-take. The horses were halted. Alternate kept his pistol aimed and his eyes hard as granite. He had no intention of shooting anyone, but it seemed these men knew no other language.

The coach came to an abrupt stop. The dust cloud poured over them as a breeze shifted from behind. Alternate kept a bead on the two men while Tony grabbed up their belongings and stepped out of the coach. She then aimed her own gun at the men while Alternate alighted.

Around them the landscape was bleak. Dry mountains were to the north and south, the southern peaks being but a hazy line in the distance. Sagebrush dotted the ground for as far as the eye could see. The hot sun was like a furnace, making it almost difficult to breathe.

Tony put her gun away and unfastened her palomino from the coach and brought it around the back. All the while, the driver and his guard looked confused. They weren’t being held up like they had expected.

Alternate put his gun away and turned from the coach. “You can go now,” he told the men.

“Nate,” Tony whispered. She stood ready to mount her horse. “Take one of their horses.”

Alternate ignored her and went to tie his pack to her horse.

“Nate!”

“I heard you!” he snapped.

“Then take one of their horses. It’ll be faster if we have two.”

“No.”

Tony gave him a dubious look. Color suffused her cheeks, but it wasn’t from the heat of the sun. “Take one, or _I_ will.”

“We can ride fine with one,” was his cold reply.

The safecracker yanked her pistol free and marched up to the coachman. She pointed it at him, her blue eyes gleaming with a threat. The metallic surface of the large pistol glared in the sun. “We’re taking one of your horses,” she said. “Get down and get me one.”

The men looked at each other, but didn’t move.

A blast from Tony’s gun startled the team of horses, making them jump. The coach rocked back and forth. The coachman and his guard grabbed hold of their hats, but realized she had fired the shot into the side of the coach. It was a warning.

The guard leaped from his seat and went to work unharnessing one of the lead horses. Like the rest, it was a sorrel horse, but large and strong with a fine collection of muscles. He gave the animal over with a sour look, his gaze fixed on the pistol.

“You’ll be fine with what you have,” Tony assured him, but there was a sarcastic edge in her comment. Alternate knew she didn’t intend to harm anyone, but push her hard enough and she wouldn’t have a problem putting a hole in someone’s leg.

When the stagecoach tore away, Tony brought the horse to Alternate. It didn’t have a saddle, but he could ride bareback until they reached a hideout near the station. Maybe that evening they could steal a saddle from the station’s stables.

Before he could climb onto the mount, Tony stopped him. “Why didn’t you take the horse?” she asked.

“I didn’t want one,” Alternate replied tightly.

“But why?”

“Because I just didn’t want one!”

Tony stopped and stared at him. “You didn’t want to _steal_ one, is that it?”

He didn’t answer.

“That’s it, then,” Tony concluded. “I don’t know what’s going through your mind right now, Nate, but if you have a problem with anything, I’d like to know.”

“I don’t have one,” he replied. “It’s just that those men know our faces now. I didn’t want that.”

“Nate, our faces are plastered on posters all over in six states and at least one territory. The only thing stealing a horse would do is to add to your bounty.”

“And give people a better reason to hang me if I’m caught,” he countered.

“But we’d hang anyway,” Tony rebutted. “Whether you hang doesn’t hinge on whether you’ve stolen a horse. You’ve robbed a _bank_.”

Alternate’s shoulders slumped in defeat. She was saying that there was nothing he could do to worsen his situation.

He was already a dead man.

 

 


	29. Chapter 29

Fino made it a point not to stare. It wouldn’t be until late at night that they would arrive at the station, so there was a lot of time left for her to embarrass herself again. Quincy had tried to make conversation, but Fino kept her responses short and wouldn’t talk anymore about the Zodiac or what happened that night in the hotel. She felt he knew enough already, but he insisted on discussing the Virgo bullet. Fino refused to take his bait. Lobo had similarly tried to cajole her into talking, but he was quicker to respect her privacy and thus dropped the subject. If only Quincy had been as obliging.

She watched the scenery out the window. Not that there was much to see, but it was better than ogling Quincy like a darned fool. In his seat across from her he would stare at her sometimes, probably hoping she’d sense it and look back, but she willed herself to look out the window. He was teasing her, trying to get her riled again like that time in the washroom. Fino had a sinking feeling in her stomach when she remembered it. He obviously knew how she felt, so why did he have to keep torturing her like this? It wasn’t conducive to their growing partnership. But she supposed he could be a jerk like that.

Fino scratched an itch on her knee. There was a sizeable scab healing there, obtained when she had crawled on her knees up the slope after Shade attacked her. Much of her soreness had subsided, although her ribs would hurt if she moved the wrong way. Her face was improving, too, rather than looking as if she’d just walked out of a saloon brawl.

Remembering her wounds brought her mind back to Quincy, of how he had taken her back to Murdoch and made sure she had good medical treatment. He had watched over her while she slept, and drawn those pictures of her in his little book. She still wanted to know what the words said, and if she could get another chance she’d like to sneak a second look. The book offered an insight into who the bounty hunter really was, a very private and rare portrait of his character. It was too intriguing to ignore.

The crick in her neck brought her out of her thoughts. She’d been sitting stiff for too long, intent on keeping her sights out the window. Fino rubbed her neck and flexed it, but then her eyes rested on Quincy. He was asleep. Lobo, sitting next to him, was also sleeping with is face smashed against the wall near the window. He snored and drooled down his cheek.

Quincy’s head was leaned back and his arms crossed over his chest, swaying with the motion of the coach. Because most of his clothes were left back at the hotel, he only wore the white shirt with his jeans. His black hat was on the seat beside him. Although he’d shaven, he hadn’t bothered with his hair. Usually he kept it combed and styled, but today it was loose, wavy locks sticking out from behind his ears.

Now was the opportunity for Fino to stare. Her gaze traced his strong jaw and took in the comely shape of his lips above a square chin. His eyebrows were dark and bold, but they added a pleasant charm to his expressions. He was certainly handsome, but that didn’t seem to help his luck with women. Perhaps everyone had been correct. He was too focused on his goal to keep a woman close for very long.

Fino decided then that she wanted to change. No longer would she push people away in favor of her lust for revenge. She would listen to the pleadings of her friends and relatives, their advice and admonitions. She wasn’t going to put her vendetta above her loved ones anymore. In fact, she decided that as soon as this mess was over, she was going back home to see her family, to those who cared about her the most. Her search for Blush wouldn’t end until he paid for his crimes, but she wanted her family to know she wasn’t doing this for herself alone.

She remembered Yaghi. He must be worried sick at this point. Fino was only supposed to be gone a few days. He’d be mad to find out what she’d been doing without him.At the thought of her brother, Fino glanced over at Sticky. He leaned back against the wall with his knees tucked up, sound asleep. Sticky had glared at Quincy and Lobo with disapproval as they prodded her with questions about her gun. The boy had apparently grown to like Fino over the short period they’d known each other, coming to her defense when the other two gave her a hard time. He would make angry signs with his hands and direct them at Quincy. How the bounty hunter could read them, Fino didn’t know.

After a while she began to doze. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out, but she was startled awake when the driver shouted something and the coach slowed. The other three awoke, and Quincy pushed aside the window flap to see what the matter was. He frowned.

“What’s the trouble?” he asked the driver and his guard. The coach’s speed was reduced to a crawl and then stopped.

The driver didn’t answer. It was then that another stagecoach coming from the opposite direction drew up beside them and stopped. Quincy was seated at the rear of the coach and had a clear view of the drivers as they exchanged words. Fino listened.

“You’re not gonna believe what we went through today,” said the driver of the passing coach. “We thought they were gonna hold us up, but all they wanted was to get out.”

“They took one of our horses!” his guard exclaimed. “Horse thieves! Two people, a man and woman.”

“So where did they go?” asked the other driver.

“Not a clue. But be careful. They might be bandits looking for a holdup. The lady pointed a big gun at us and even shot a hole in the coach.” He gestured angrily at the hole in the side of the vehicle. “They meant business.”

“They didn’t steal anything other than a horse?” Quincy muttered. “They could’ve at least stolen whatever money the driver had.”

“Unless they didn’t need it,” Lobo replied.

“Thanks for letting us know,” their driver said to the other. “We’ll be on guard.”

With that, the stagecoaches parted ways. Quincy let the curtain down and stared off in thought.

“That’s weird,” Fino remarked. “Why would they steal a horse but not money?”

“The horse was more important, I suppose,” Quincy replied with a shrug. He scratched at his chin. “A man and a woman…?”

“We don’t know any lady bandits,” Lobo said, his face dark with suspicion. “New around here?”

“Perhaps.”

Lobo cracked a greasy grin. “Hey, maybe we shoulda asked if she was pretty, eh? Maybe you’d like to chase her?”

Quincy gave him a dull stare.

“She’d like a nice looking fellow like you,” Lobo teased. “Make it easy to catch her.”

“If she had any brains,” Fino cut in, “then she’d put as much distance between herself and Quincy as possible.”

Lobo laughed at that. “Like all the others!”

Quincy scowled, but then smiled. “Well, there’s at least one girl who hasn’t run yet.”

“Ooooh,” said Lobo, his eyes going round.

“But I’m here on business,” Fino returned smoothly. She lifted her chin. “There’s nothing more to it.”

“Your gun would beg to differ,” Quincy said with a nod at the Zodiac at her hip.

She narrowed her eyes at him. _I’m not going to let you win this._ But then she returned his smile. “It sounds like you _want_ me to stay.”

Quincy’s lips puckered in annoyance. “You have your uses.”

_My uses?_ A barb of indignation cut into her soul. _Of course he’s using me. Why wouldn’t he?_ She was aware of the Zodiac beside her. After that night, did he decide she was worth keeping along for the ride? The barb drove deeper. Disappointment set in. _He’s not keeping me around just because he likes me. He wants me to use my gun for his own goals._ And after what they had shared at the bank ruins? The trust she thought they were building? Here Fino had believed their relationship had moved to a different level. It was wishful thinking. Perhaps she ought to take more seriously what Sheriff Dawson had warned her about.

“Then I hope I don’t outlive my usefulness,” she bit back. The bitterness in her voice surprised Quincy.

“That—That’s not what I meant,” he said, a flush coming to his face. He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but he glanced at Lobo and hesitated. “I’m supposed to be the useful one here.”

Fino kept her mouth shut. She had a number of responses in mind, but all of them would result in an argument, and being stuck in a stagecoach with an audience wasn’t appealing to her. She chose not to respond.

They rode on in silence for a time. The sun was moving across the sky toward the west. It would be quite a while yet before they reached the station. Fino returned to staring out the window. She wished she was sitting in Sticky’s seat so she wouldn’t be so close to Quincy.

 

* * *

 

Stepping out of the stagecoach was the best thing that happened all day for Fino. After getting her bag from the driver and dropping her gun in the chest, she made straight for the bunk room and took the cot she had last time. Sticky and Lobo eventually ambled in with their few belongings.

“Where’s Quincy?” she asked. He hadn’t come in yet.

“He’ll be in his old room tonight,” Lobo explained, “and he must speak with his mother and father.”

“I see.” She glanced out the doorway, half expecting the bounty hunter to arrive. “I hope it wasn’t because of anything I said.”

Lobo shook his head. “Oh, no, _amiga_.” He sat on a cot across from her. The wooden legs strained under his weight. “He’s not like that. He just wants to please his parents. His mother dwells on the past.” He snickered. “I think she still wishes Quincy was a _niño_.”

“I guess it can be hard for some parents to see their children grow up,” Fino said. _Especially when they grow up to be bounty hunters_. She thought about Yaghi and what he would be like when he grew up. To her, he’ll always be her little brother. But someday he would be a grown man and she would have to treat him as such.

Sticky picked a cot beside Fino. He smiled up at her in his usual way. So innocent, Fino thought, but at the same time he was plucky. He would have to be to tag along with the likes of Quincy and Lobo. What sort of man would he grow up to be?

“Lobo?” Fino began.

The big man looked up from pulling off his stinking boots.

“How long have you known Quincy?”

“Five, six years perhaps,” Lobo replied. He shrugged.

“This bank robbery the gang is planning… Are we going to catch them before or after?”

Lobo stopped short and appeared wary. “W-Well, the boss and I have not talked about it much.”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Uhh…”

Fino sat on the edge of her cot as she watched his reactions. “Hoot and Oralee seemed confused when I told them we were going to stop the robbery before it happened. Bounties increase after crimes, right?”

She’d cornered him. Lobo glanced around the room nervously before settling his gaze on Sticky. The boy didn’t offer any help.

“It—It is true,” Lobo said in a weak voice. “But…”

Fino took a breath. “Does Quincy plan on letting the outlaws rob the bank before trying to catch them?”

Lobo put his hands up. “He will not let them leave the town—“

“But he will let the robbery happen?”

The big man seemed uncertain. He looked down at the floor, and rubbing the back of his neck, said, “You might want to talk to him about it. He makes these plans by himself.”

Quincy had never discussed any plans with Fino regarding how they would catch the outlaws. He only said she could come along and never mentioned what her role would be. She was beginning to suspect what that might be. The Zodiac could stop the whole gang dead in its tracks. For Quincy it was much easier than picking off each man one by one with his rifle.

But she’d made her decision. She offered to help knowing she had the power to do it, and exactly how she would do it. So why was she so bothered?

_Because I want Quincy to want me for more than just my gun._ It was so foolish. She was a child in his eyes. Maybe a little mature for her age, but a kid nonetheless. He probably regarded her the same as Sticky. _If I was a few years older, would that make a difference?_ Probably not. She had the sense she wasn’t his type anyway.

Fino determined that she would have a discussion with him tomorrow. She needed to know his plans, and make it clear that she was joining him not because of his “usefulness” to her, but because, well…she cared about him. Her heart pounded at the thought of having to do that.

 

* * *

 

Quincy wasn’t there for breakfast. When the others arrived at the table, the food had already been prepared and was waiting for them. Fino suspected Quincy was still sleeping, but that was unlike him. Most of the time he was up before her.

Also absent were Boris and Delora. Remarkably, the food was much better than last time, and Fino wondered which parent made breakfast. She was under the impression Boris did most of the work around here, including the cooking, but something had changed. As she marveled at the food, she heard Lobo laugh.

“Ahh, looks like the chef has returned,” he said, scarfing down a pile of scrambled eggs with eager glee. Sticky seemed to agree with him as he shoveled in some delicious looking potatoes.

Fino nibbled on a biscuit and tried not to watch him. “What do you mean?”

“Quincy!” Lobo muffled with a full mouth. He looked as if he could clean out the whole station with the way he was eating. His eyes went wide with reverence. “Man can cook a breakfast for the _gods_.”

“You mean he cooked all this?” Even with the meat on the table Fino gawked at the feast before her. “The only time I ever saw him cook was out of a can.”

“Give him a kitchen and he’d a different man,” said Lobo.

The bounty hunter was apparently a man of many talents. What else he could he do?

“Where is he anyway?” Fino asked. “He can’t still be cooking.”

Lobo shrugged and didn’t seem interested. He was more concerned about his food, gobbling it down like he hadn’t eaten in days.

Fino figured Quincy was speaking with his parents, but when Delora rolled in she was suddenly uneasy. The woman brought in a pitcher of water for the guests and gave them a wan smile. Her eyes were somewhat brighter today than the last time Fino saw her. But something seemed off.

“Delora,” said Fino. “I thought Quincy might be with you.”

“He’s out,” said the elderly hostess.

When she didn’t elaborate, Fino had to ask, “Out? Where did he go?”

Delora set the pitcher on the table and stopped. For a moment she stared into space. “He said he needed take a look ahead.”

“He’s scouting? Whatever for?”

Delora leaned back in her wheelchair and seemed thoughtful, as if deciding what to do next. “He told me about those two who stopped the stagecoach.”

“Oh? He must be worried about bandits, then. I wish he would’ve told me. I would’ve gone with him.”

The woman appeared to wither in her chair. She looked so sad it made Fino’s heart ache. Slowly, she reached under the quilt on her lap and brought something out. When she put it on the table, the breath caught in Fino’s throat, and for a few moments she couldn’t breathe.

“Wh-Where did you…?” Fino reached out for the comb. Its gold and silver body glinted in the morning light coming from the windows. She felt the smooth pearls along its handle. “This is—This is Alternate’s!”

“I found it in the gun chest,” Delora explained. “You mean it was the young man’s? I thought it was the woman’s. He must be upset to have lost something so valuable. He left in such haste… When Quincy told me about the stagecoach, I knew it was those two. He seemed to know who they were.”

“They were here?!” Fino exclaimed. She shot up from her seat. “When?”

“They left yesterday morning. I thought…” Delora vented a deep sigh. “I thought they were a nice young couple. I did not take them for bandits.”

Fino glanced at Lobo and Sticky. They were also surprised.

“How long ago did Quincy leave?” she asked Delora.

“About a half hour ago.”

“I’ve got to catch up with him.”

When Fino went for the chest to get her gun, Delora said, “He specifically said to tell you _not_ to follow him. He knew you would want to.”

“I can’t let him go by himself.” Fino grabbed the Zodiac and her tomahawk. “I don’t know why Alternate and Tony were here, but if they got off that stagecoach…” Could they be somewhere in the area? But why? What would bring them out here?

Her heart thudded against her ribs. Something was going on, and she needed to know what it was.

She turned to Lobo and Sticky. “Are you guys coming or not?”

The big man shook his head, his face grim. “We stay to protect the family. That’s what the boss would want.”

Fino couldn’t argue with that. “Do you think…? Do you believe Alternate and Tony might be close by? Would they come back?” If Alternate had gotten off the stagecoach because he realized the comb was missing, he would’ve come back a long time ago and been gone by now. He didn’t come back. But it wasn’t the comb that brought them here in the first place.

Alarm gripped her. _Blessed spirits!_ _Did he follow me?!_

Before Lobo could answer, Fino flew out the door and mounted her horse.


	30. Chapter 30

The morning was crisp and clear. As he breathed in the fresh air, Quincy noticed that his clothes were permeated with the pungent odor of cooking smoke. As much as he liked cooking, he disliked that smell. Still, it made him wish he’d stayed for breakfast. He would’ve liked to see the look on Fino’s face when she realized he had cooked the food. But this was vital.

Last night he spoke with his parents about the usual things, like where he’d been, what his plans were, and tried to soothe their fears. Yet he never seemed to be able to convince them he would be okay. Too often he’d come back with new scars, or a new wound to stitch up. His mother had pleaded and pleaded that he stop this hunt for Shade, but it made him angrier to see her give up, to want to crawl into a dark place and shiver there for the rest of her life. Shade had stolen the power of her spirit. Quincy wouldn’t rest until he had stolen Shade’s.

The last conversation with his parents revealed the identities of the passengers who had stopped the stagecoach. Quincy had been floored. When he mentioned the stagecoach, his mother shrunk into her chair with disappointment. According to the guest registry, the two passengers had been Alternate and Tony. They never would’ve seen his name since he never needed to put it down. Fino didn’t even know what a registry was and couldn’t write anyway. His mother then produced the comb she’d found in the chest, but Quincy didn’t know anything about it. He suggested she show it to Fino.

The girl was going to be mighty upset when she realized Alternate had come this way. He could already hear her shooting off questions, none of which he’d be able to answer. Then she would want to search for her friend. Quincy decided he would beat her to it.

He first started east on the stage road, and then veered off south into the unmarked wilderness. There were no roads here, but Quincy knew this area intimately. Some areas provided haven for outlaws, but since he started gaining a name for himself as a bounty hunter many had moved deeper into more remote places. The closest hideout was this way.

Over and over he tried to figure out why Alternate and Tony would be at the station, and why they would be traveling. His mother mentioned they were going to Silver Ridge, but the two had no business being there.

_If they found out about Fino’s partnership with me, and that we were going to Silver Ridge, it might partly explain why. The other reason I can’t understand._ They were far from their target bank, and even further from the gang’s camp. Quincy and Fino had gone in the wrong direction, leaving Murdoch open for the outlaws. Unless Alternate and Tony had defected, they’d only be here under Holloway’s orders.

_And what are those orders?_ Quincy wondered. He began to think that maybe he shouldn’t have left the station. Shade knew too much about him. If he had divulged information to Holloway and the leader was sending out lackeys toward Silver Ridge… The indications were ominous.

He directed Hellfire on a narrow trail that cut up into a rocky outcropping. Scraggly bushes clawed around the stones, looking like gnarled fingers of the dead. Most of them were leafless, having died off last summer during a bad dry spell. Quincy knew a space between the stones that provided a good hiding spot for those who wished to remain unseen. As he came near, he dismounted and pulled the Lead Messenger from its scabbard on the saddle. Hellfire snorted hot air as if anticipating the impending violence.

Peering around the rocks, it was clear someone had been here recently, but the place had been cleaned up. All that remained were the blackened coals of the fire and tracks from horses and people. Quincy relaxed. He approached the fire and felt that the coals were barely warm, almost cold. Whoever had been here had left early. When he knelt to see the tracks, he could see one had smaller feet than the other. A woman, maybe?

Quincy stood and gazed out over the land. He could see the bend in the distant stage road that led around the bluffs of the mesa and toward the station. It wasn’t far from here. Someone camping on this spot could make it to the station in an hour by horse. From the bluffs behind the building they could watch the activity of the people there.

He felt a hard knot in his stomach. He was beginning to form a hypothesis. Alternate and Tony for whatever reason came out to the station, abandoned the stagecoach, and camped here last night. Then they might’ve gone back to watch from the cliffs near the station. Could they be there now?

His heart gave a kick. Quincy rushed back to Hellfire. As he swung up into the saddle with his rifle in hand, a long shadow fell over him from above. He stopped. There was the telltale click of a revolver hammer being pulled back.

“Now the hunter becomes the hunted,” said a voice.

Quincy jerked his gaze up. Alternate stood on the rocks with a gun aimed at him. His grin was the rictus of a victorious madman. The metallic rim of his monocle glinted in sun, and his firing arm was steady.

Crunching footsteps sounded and Tony appeared. She must’ve moved around from the backside of the camp. She had two large revolvers in her hands. Her expression was serious, and she glared at Quincy like he had stepped on a cute little mouse.

“So this is the great Preacher’s Kid?” Alternate said. He stood relaxed and confident, certain of total control. “I don’t know why we weren’t able to get rid of you sooner. It was too easy to track you.”

Quincy kept his tone calm. “Let me guess. Holloway sent you here to kill me?”

“Lucky guess,” Alternate replied. His grin fell. “We’re fed up with your game of cat and mouse.”

“Did Holloway also tell you to kill Fino?”

For a second the gun wavered. “Only you,” Alternate replied. “I don’t know why Fino would work with you, but I can’t let her keep doing this. It’s too important that I finish my plans.”

Quincy scowled. This kid sounded too much like himself. “But she’s your friend. You don’t even know why she’s doing this. She would never do anything to hurt you.”

“She already has!” Alternate shot back. The gun glinted as his hand trembled. “If I don’t kill you, I’ll let Holloway down.”

“Ohhh,” Quincy said, cracking a wide smile. “Is that what this is about? You want to please your superior?” He cocked his head. “If only he could see you now, shaking in your boots.”

Alternate ignored the insult, and the glimmering gun steadied again. “Tell me why Fino is working with you.”

“I’m afraid that information is confidential.”

“Tell me!”

“You should ask her. She can speak for herself. Would you like to return to the station with me to see her?”

“No, I won’t fall for your traps,” Alternate spat. “You’ll turn on me as soon as I have my back turned. I can’t let you _or_ Fino mess this up!”

“She isn’t trying to—“

“Shut up!”

“Then kill me already!”

Alternate seemed to struggle with himself. More than anything he’d wanted to know the reason why Fino was working with the bounty hunter. But it appeared he wouldn’t be getting the answer from Quincy. Yet it was far preferable than facing a furious Fino later. Hoping to preserve his life, Quincy decided to withhold all information.

The world stood still. Alternate remained frozen on the rocks with his gun at ready. Tony hadn’t moved at all. No wind stirred around them, and the only sound came from a warbling bird somewhere in the distance.

Alternate’s chest moved in shallow breaths. His blazing stare bit Quincy like a viper. “I’m giving you one more chance to tell me why Fino joined you.”

“And I’m giving you one more chance to come back to the station to ask her yourself,” Quincy replied gently. His rifle had been resting in the crook of his left arm, but his other hand gripped the body with his finger touching the trigger. With the barrel facing Alternate, he had only to jerk the barrel up and fire, but he knew he couldn’t kill the young man. It would devastate Fino.

Alternate gritted his teeth. He said something under his breath Quincy didn’t catch. As Quincy opened his mouth to ask, a hot pain lanced through his chest. Hellfire reared up in shock, sending his rider tumbling out of the saddle. The bounty hunter hit the ground with a heavy thud. He lost sight of the world, and the last thing he heard was the warbling bird in the distance.

 

* * *

 

Alternate dropped his gun. Smoke curled up from the barrel, and the harsh sunlight glared off its body. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath.

Tony had jumped back to avoid the terrified horse. The black beast reared and kicked out, and while Tony tried to grab its reins the animal bounded away with a spray of gravel under its hooves. The safecracker cursed at having lost a fine animal.

The bounty hunter was face-down on the ground, a pool of blood under him. He was motionless. The bullet had hit him in the chest near his heart. A kill shot. His golden rifle was a few feet from his hands, and his black hat had fallen off.

“You did it!” Tony said, her face beaming. “You killed the Preacher’s Kid!”

Alternate looked at his gun hand. He’d really done it. It had been a while since he killed anybody, and he found the feeling wasn’t pleasant. The bounty hunter had offered to help resolve his questions about Fino. It wasn’t quite the reaction Alternate had expected. He had anticipated an intense gunfight to the death.

But now Holloway would be proud of him. Maybe so proud that he’ll demote Shade and put Alternate in his place. Alternate had dreamed that would happen, to be the trusted right-hand man of his true father. He felt his heart swelling with emotion—

Until he looked back at the bounty hunter. Tony had moved in. She prodded the body with a stick.

“Yep, he’s dead,” she said. “Now he won’t bother us anymore.”

She was no doubt correct; however, Alternate realized this may not be the end of their troubles. He wondered what Fino would do now. He may have just infuriated the temperamental owner of the Zodiac Gun.

“We’ve gotta go,” he said quickly.

The safecracker threw away the stick and turned the body over. The hunter’s face was slack, his eyes closed. Tony began rifling through the pockets of his jacket. “Pick up his rifle,” she said. She was all teeth now. “Show it to Holloway. He’s going to be so happy!”

Alternate holstered his gun and picked his way down the rocks. The rifle was beautiful. Molded along the golden barrel near the stock were two wings like an angel. He had only ever heard of this gun. The men in the gang spoke of it with hushed terror. A bullet from this rifle could hit its victim before the report was heard.

Now it was in Alternate’s hands. It was warm, like it had a soul, a life, but he knew it was because it had been lying out in the sun. It felt to him like a holy relic to be treasured and revered. This thing which had caused the Black Eagles so much grief…would now be used for their gain.

Tony pulled out a few dollar bills from the dead man’s pockets. From his waistcoat she disconnected a pocket watch, flipped it open, and smiled.

“Got it from an old girlfriend, looks like,” she said with a scoff. “Too bad. He was a pretty good looking guy.”

“Do you really have to do that?” Alternate asked. “We’ve got the rifle. We don’t need to rob him, too.”

“Gang policy,” Tony replied. She found a little book and turned it over curiously. “Even if they’re dead, we still empty their pockets. He certainly doesn’t need this stuff anymore.”

Alternate could understand her reasoning, but he still found it disturbing. But he used to do the same thing in the past, didn’t he? “Let’s just get out of here already. If Fino comes after us, she won’t stop until we’ve tasted a Taurus bullet.”

Tony looked up and cocked an eyebrow. “A what?”

“N-Nothing. Let’s just hurry up and go.”

The safecracker paused as she peered at him. “Do you think he meant something to her?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think we should stand around trying to figure it out.”

Once Tony was satisfied they mounted their horses and left the body of the bounty hunter to rot in the sun.

Alternate kept thinking about the man’s mother weeping in her wheelchair.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently received several kudos from guests. Thank you all so much! I was absolutely amazed to get so many kudos in such a short period of time. It is a lot for a fanfiction in a tiny, obscure fandom. ~~Did the story get rec’d somewhere? LOL~~ Please, do not hesitate to comment. Don’t be shy! :)

The report of the gun alerted Fino. She halted the dapple-gray horse and waited to hear another shot, but didn’t.

She’d taken the road east, as was the logical choice. If Alternate and Tony were waiting for them somewhere, it would make sense they would wait for a stagecoach going back to Murdoch. Quincy would be on this road. But she hadn’t seen him. Trying to make out tracks was difficult because of how often the stagecoaches came this way. She could only keep going in hopes of catching up or meeting him on his way back. After nearly an hour, however, she hadn’t seen any sign of the bounty hunter.

Fino spurred the horse onward down the road. She was certain the shot had come from the east.

Eyes open for any tracks, Fino noticed a cluster that turned off of the road and into the brush. She slowed her horse and studied the faint trail for a moment. Some of the tracks appeared fresh. There was no way of knowing for sure if this trail led to Quincy, but she decided to try anyway.

As her horse cantered along, Fino leaned over to make sure she was still on the trail. Up ahead was a rock formation that jutted up from the sandy earth, partly covered with desiccated bushes. It was still a distance away. Maybe it would make a good lookout over the land.

Movement caught her attention. A black horse darted around the pale green of the tall bushes. Fino recognized Quincy’s mount. The saddle was vacant. Her heart began to race.

Fino dismounted and came toward the animal. She reached out and spoke to him gently, and he closed as he came near. Convinced she wasn’t a predator, the horse stopped and let her take his reins. Fino gave him a quick inspection. No injuries. The rifle scabbard was empty, though.

“Where’s your rider, boy?” she asked with a few pats to his neck. The horse’s head bounced. “Did something bad happen?”

The horse turned and seemed to want to go back the way he came. That’s when Fino noticed the red speckles on the saddle. She wiped a droplet with a gloved finger. Still fresh.

 _By the gods above, no…_ A lump formed in her throat. “Is Quincy hurt?” she asked the horse. “Can you take me to him?”

The horse responded by dashing off again. Fino quickly remounted and followed. They rode on for another fifteen minutes, heading straight for the rocky outcropping.

Fino took deep breaths to keep the panic at bay. She hoped and prayed Quincy was all right, that he was waiting for her at that outcropping. He’d sent his horse home to alert everyone, and kept his rifle for protection. But the blood and the gunshot... Fino was terrified of the implications. _Please, no… No, no, no, no, no..._

The outcropping was as still as the desert landscape. Its stones were dark against the red and tans of the ground, even more so under the pale blue sky. The bushes around it were shriveled and crooked, and the sun baked away whatever moisture there had been. The whole place looked like death.

The black horse went to the base of the outcropping. He trotted around and whinnied in distress, but with the vegetation cover and the distance Fino couldn’t see why. She rushed her steed forward until it skidded to a stop near the black horse.

Fino saw Quincy’s prone figure. His face was pale and his chest was covered with blood. His hat was lying a few feet away. Fino almost got her foot tangled in the stirrup trying to get down as fast as she could.

“Quincy!” she shrieked. “Quincy!!” She went to work tearing open his shirt to see the hole in his chest. It was aimed a little too high above the heart, but it was still lethal. However, the wound was bleeding. He had a heartbeat. She confirmed this when she felt the pulse at his neck. It was weak.

“Quincy, can you hear me?” Fino cradled his head in her hands. “Please, tell me you can!”

Nothing. Fino took little comfort in just knowing he was alive. She needed to hear him. Even a groan would suffice. Tears stung her eyes. “Please, don’t die. I don’t want to do this without you.”

Taking the hem of his shirt, she tore off a piece and pressed it against the wound. She used more strips to wrap bandages around his chest and tied them off.

The tears streamed down Fino’s face. “Alternate and Tony did this to you, didn’t they?” she said between gritted teeth. But which one fired the shot?

He was too heavy for her to put on his horse, and there were no materials for her to make a decent travois. Even if she did, she doubted there was enough time to make one from scratch. Quincy needed help immediately. But there was no help to be had here. Fino buried her face in his shoulder as despair ate at her courage.

“Never been…shot there…before.”

Fino lifted her face. Quincy’s eyes were open. He tried to move his head to see her. His lips had lost much of their color.

She could’ve sobbed. “You idiot. You should’ve had me come with you!”

His brow creased and he nodded weakly. “Maybe he…wouldn’t have…”

Fino wanted to slam the ground with her fists. _Alternate did this!_ “We’ve got to get you back to the station. Do you think you can stand?”

Quincy shook his head. “Not…without help.”

She slid her arm behind his shoulders and helped him sit up. He gave a sharp cry and his hand pressed against the wound. It took a few tries, but as Fino put all her muscles into it he got up on unsteady legs. He was doubled over, but standing nonetheless. Now came the task of putting one foot in front of the other.

It was miraculous getting him into the saddle. Fino attributed it to Quincy’s impressive resistance to pain. They had to stop several times to let him muster his strength before he could get his foot into the stirrup and swing his leg over. Once in the saddle he leaned forward with his hands grasping the pommel. Fino worried he might not be able to stay on. He assured her he would. As an extra precaution, Fino tied his ankles to the stirrups with some rawhide string she kept in her saddlebags.

After offering him a drink from a canteen, Fino took the reins of his horse and guided him alongside hers. They moved at a canter, and every so often Quincy would make a noise of pain at the motions. Their progress was agonizingly slow. It would take twice as long to get back to the station. In the meantime, Fino fumed.

 _Alternate came to kill him. He meant to shoot Quincy in the heart._ It was horrible to think about, that this person she had so loved was really just a killer. _Maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe_ everyone _was wrong about you. You belong in a gang of killers and thieves!_ He had saved her life before, and had fallen in love with her, but none of that mattered now. She had to stop him. She had to stop the Black Eagles. _And I will use the power of the Zodiac to do it!_

 

* * *

 

Quincy had gone silent. She would often glance over her shoulder to make sure he was still in the saddle. He appeared limp, an arm dangling over the side and the other wrapped over the front of the pommel. When Fino called out to him, he didn’t respond. Her worry increased.

At this point she had managed to quell her panic and think clearly. In the distance a long band of clouds crowded over the southern mountains. They were dark and threatening. A bolt of lightning flashed, and faint thunder rolled out soon after. Fino estimated a rainstorm by late afternoon. She and Quincy would reach the station before that happened.

To keep her anger in check, Fino decided not to think about Alternate. Instead she thought about the consequences of this setback. Quincy was injured enough to put him out of this game for several days or more, assuming he survived. Even if the bounty hunter were out of commission, however, Fino felt she could still carry on without him. With the Zodiac alone she could handle the gang. But she would have to catch them before they robbed the bank, and the morning stagecoach was already gone. She would have to go to Murdoch by horse, and that would take much longer. On top of that, Alternate and Tony had a few hours head start. Once they returned to the Black Eagles, they could report their attack on Quincy. Would they then make their move on the bank?

Fino remembered the single gunshot wound in Quincy’s chest. There were no other wounds. He’d been left for dead in the belief the one shot had killed him. What was more, she hadn’t seen his rifle anywhere. She could guess what happened to it.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. _I have to focus on Quincy right now_. _I can’t afford to dwell on what Alternate did. It’ll only get me upset._

When at last they reached the road, Fino saw a mounted figure on the horizon. She reached for her gun, but then realized the figure was too small to be Alternate or Tony. Sticky raise an arm in greeting. He was riding Lobo’s strawberry roan. The others must’ve become worried over how long she’d been gone.

When the boy saw Quincy, concern overtook him and he spurred the roan to hurry. As he came up beside the bounty hunter, he reached out and touched the man’s shoulder. He gave Fino a sharp, questioning look. She kept riding.

“He was almost shot in the heart,” she explained. “Go back to the station and tell everyone to get ready. He’s going to need help.”

Sticky lingered a moment to look at Quincy, and then sped off toward the station.

The rainclouds were getting closer and moving fast. Fino decided to take a risk and move a little quicker to make better time. She couldn’t stop looking over her shoulder at Quincy.

She was terrified of losing him. Even though she’d only known him for a few weeks, somehow she’d come to love him. When had it started? When she awoke in the hotel in Murdoch and found he’d watched over her for two days? It was mystery. How could she be in love with two people at the same time?

She gave a bitter chuckle. _Had that been the dilemma of Alternate’s mother? Could she not decide which man she would commit to and left? Awfully cruel to leave her own son behind._

The clouds were almost overhead when Fino reached the station. Lobo burst out the front door and made a bee line for Quincy. Boris was second to emerge, his lined face tight with anxiety. Delora must’ve remained inside, paralyzed with grief.

As they pulled the bounty hunter off his horse and hauled him inside, raindrops pattered the dry ground. The clouds were furiously black now. Lightning darted across the sky. Thunder echoed overhead.

They wasted no time taking him to his room where they placed him on the bed. The room was small with a window looking out at the barn and stables. At the foot of the bed was a chest. A set of drawers was in one corner, and there was a wash basin on a small table beside the bed. It was filled with steaming hot water already.

Boris brought in a bag containing his tools of the trade. He rolled up his sleeves as he stared down at Quincy. “Should’ve figured this would happen someday,” he mumbled.

“Is he going to be okay?” Fino asked. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable in the small room. It was crowded with almost everyone in it. Delora remained outside the door, sobbing.

“Can’t tell right now,” Boris replied, shaking his head. His face was grim. “Only time will tell. It looks like the bullet was pretty close to his heart.” He paused, and in a softer voice added, “He might not make it.”

Fino put a hand over her mouth. Lobo grasped her shoulders and directed her out of the room. Sticky followed them with tears in his eyes.

The person most affected was Delora. Tears poured down her wrinkled cheeks, like water flowing down canyons during a flash flood. The bun behind her head had fallen loose, and she clutched at the quilt on her lap with trembling hands.

“I knew… I knew this—would happen,” she tried to say between sobs.

Fino went to kneel in front of her and took the woman’s hands. “No, he’s going to be okay. I helped him stand and get in the saddle. He was hurting but he still made it. He’s strong.”

Delora’s body shook with ragged sobs. “Wh-Why does this keep happening to m-me? That m-man took my d-dignity, and now he has to take my son?”

“Shade didn’t do this,” Fino clarified. “But I know who did. I can stop him.”

She wasn’t sure she could leave Quincy like this. Every part of her said to remain by his side, but she had to continue. He would want her to. He believed in Fino when she first went into the outlaw camp. He would believe in her now.

Looking up at the sorrow in Delora’s eyes, Fino decided it would be good to stay until it was apparent Quincy would be okay. She wouldn’t leave in the midst of confusion and uncertainty. _But I have to hurry. The gang might strike before I can reach Murdoch._

Fino stayed by Delora’s side as another hour passed. Lobo and Sticky milled about in silence, sometimes sitting and sometimes pacing. Boris never asked for help. When Lobo stuck his head in to offer, the old man shooed him out of the room. The former doctor didn’t give them any updates, either.

All the while Fino sat and smoldered. Earlier she had determined not to dwell on the incident, but now she couldn’t help it. In her mind she went over a dozen things she wanted to say to Alternate, from demanding an explanation to declaring her hatred. Then she remembered their time together as friends, and the pain was almost crippling. If only she could have some time alone with him, without interruptions, she might be able to pull the truth out of him, about everything.

The world outside was dim. Rain drummed on the roof of the station. Thunder rattled the windows. The air became heavy with the scent of rain. Fino saw a spider crawling along the wall on the floor and found herself wishing she could be that spider. How much easier life would be if all she worried about was finding a little bit of food to let her live another day. There was no business of falling in love. All that was needed was a mate to make some offspring with and then move on. She could crawl along the ceiling and sit there for hours on end, watching the world go by until it was time to find some food again. Yes, being a spider was much easier. Or an ant, a fly, a bird, or a fish. Goals in life were simpler, and at times easier to achieve. She might get eaten or stepped on, but she would never have to experience the emotional turmoil she felt now.

Evening came. Boris opened the door and came out with a bloody rag in his hands. He wore a long white apron with red stains. Although the man was grim in his natural state, there was something in his eyes that seemed to glitter with optimism.

“Got the bullet out. Didn’t hit his heart. No infection—yet. Stitched him up. He doesn’t look good right now, but I believe he will be,” he said.

Delora sighed with relief and hid her face in her hands.

“Is he awake?” Fino asked eagerly.

“No, but you can see him,” Boris replied. He stood aside as Fino and Delora squeezed into the room. Lobo stayed in the doorway with Sticky to let Delora have some space.

Quincy was paler than Fino remembered. An oil lamp beside his bed cast shadows over his sallow features. His breathing was steady and soft. Boris had changed the bed sheets already and left them in a pile in one corner. A clean blanket was pulled up to Quincy’s bandaged chest.

Delora rolled up to the bedside and grasped one of his hands. Her tears had dried somewhat, but as she looked at him, fresh ones began to well up.

“I gave him an anesthetic,” Boris explained. “He won’t be awake for some time. When he does, he’ll be as ornery as a horse shittin’ railroad spikes. Something about that medicine makes him mighty unfriendly.”

“How long do you think he’ll be down?” Fino asked.

“I give him a week or more. Not good to have him standing any sooner than four or five days.”

Fino was disappointed. So she would have to go on alone.

“I saw fresh cuts on his chest,” Boris said. “Get that in Silver Ridge?”

“He did. He was attacked by some men who were sent to kill him.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. I knew they’d come after him.”

“Listen,” Fino began, “Quincy believes the bank is in Murdoch—“

“He told us as much.”

“Do you know which bank it might be?”

The old man mulled it over. “It has guards… It has to be the Western American Bank. I have to go to Murdoch sometimes since I can’t go to Silver Ridge. I see the bank on my way to a supplier of mine. It’s the only one that has guards in Murdoch. It’s on the eastern side of town.” He narrowed at eye at her. “Are you thinking of taking off on your own?”

“I have to. If Quincy won’t be well enough to travel for a few weeks, then I have to go by myself.”

Boris gave her a dubious look. “A young girl like you against all those outlaws?”

Fino rested a hand on the Zodiac at her hip. “I can do it.”

Boris eyed the gun, and something must’ve showed in Fino’s expression to convince him. “Not thinking to leave at this hour, I hope,” he said.

“Well…” It was an option. Traveling by night would allow her the chance to catch up to Alternate and Tony. But she didn’t know if they were taking the main road back, or another trail in the wilderness to throw off pursuers. The best it would do is give her a head start.

After this stressful day, however, Fino was exhausted. It wouldn’t be wise to spend all her energy tonight and not have any tomorrow. She needed that energy for when she confronted the Black Eagles.

“I guess I’ll stay tonight,” she said.

She left the room with reluctance. As much as she wanted to stay with Quincy the whole night, it was Delora’s right as his mother to be by his side.

 

* * *

 

Nightmares plagued Fino through the night. She kept seeing herself back at the rocky outcropping. The colors in the world were all wrong: the sky was orange and the earth was blue. Alternate stood above her with his gun aimed. He grinned like he’d just caught an elusive animal. She tried to speak, but no words came.

Something solid was in her hand. At first she saw the Lead Messenger, but the image shimmered and became the Zodiac. When she looked at Alternate again, the grin had vanished and he glared at her. Slowly, as if in a trance, she brought her gun up…and fired. A searing pain pierced her heart. Alternate disappeared in the blazing light of the Zodiac Gun.

Fino awoke. Dawn was faint through the window curtains of the bunk room. Lobo was snoring in the cot across from her, and Sticky lay bundled in the blankets on the bed beside her. She noticed a few other cots were occupied with passengers who had arrived late last night on the stagecoach, two women. The driver and his guard were already gone to prepare the stagecoach.

After wrapping her hair, Fino tiptoed out of the room. The floorboards squeaked under her feet on her way to Quincy’s room. The door was ajar. Inside, Delora was still at the bedside. She looked exhausted. Her face sagged with fatigue and her eyes drooped. Graying hair fell around her shoulders. Quincy was sleeping and it didn’t appear as if he’d moved the entire night. Fino stepped inside.

“You should get some rest,” she said.

Delora swung her head around. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I can’t leave him alone.”

Fino looked at Quincy. She longed to touch him, and her heart swelled with tenderness. More than anything she wanted to stay and care for him until the moon rose. She wanted to do for him what he had done for her. “He’s going to be okay. I know he will,” she said.

The woman nodded.

The bounty hunter’s hand was warm when Fino grasped it. His breathing was even, and he appeared peaceful. Sometime during the night Boris had changed the bandages because the current ones looked fresh. No blood had soaked through, a good sign.

 _If I weren’t leaving today, I’d stay and watch him so his mother can get some sleep_. But what was the point of leaving? So what if Alternate robbed another bank? With the one already on his record, it would be impossible to convince the judge to just let him go. No, not only impossible, but absurd. No true man of justice would let Alternate go free.

But a fire burned within Fino, one she couldn’t ignore. As Quincy lay there unconscious, the fury kept building. Alternate thought he’d killed an enemy, but in reality he’d killed his only chance at escaping the noose. After this, Sheriff Dawson wouldn’t be so quick to grant the favor. Even if he did, the judge would be less convinced. No matter how Fino looked at it, clearing Alternate’s name just wasn’t feasible.

Delora rolled away from the bedside and headed for the door. She paused and said, “I must relieve myself. Boris will begin cooking breakfast soon. Until then…”

“I’ll watch him,” Fino assured her with a smile.

Delora wheeled out.

Pressure gripped Fino’s hand. Quincy opened his eyes. He was still pale, but better than yesterday.

“I wanted to…wait until she left,” he said, sounding hoarse and tired.

“You shouldn’t be talking. Save your strength,” Fino said. She pulled her hand away and reached for a quilt at the foot of the bed. She brought it forward, but he pushed it away.

“I don’t need it,” he groused. He then winced at the pain in his chest. “Kid’s... _almost_ a good shot…”

“You’re lucky he didn’t kill you.” She ignored his protests about the quilt and draped it over him. “He’s always been a good shot.”

Quincy managed a weak grin. “Maybe he…missed…on purpose?”

Fino hadn’t thought of that. But the hit was close enough to be lethal. No, he didn’t intend to miss. She shook her head.

The bounty hunter took a moment to gather more strength to speak. He was still drowsy from the medicine. At times he would almost fall asleep, but then his eyes would snap open again.

“Holloway…told him to…do it,” he said. “I could see…in his eyes… He didn’t want to. Forgive him.”

Fino was surprised. She already figured Alternate was acting on orders, but here his victim was asking her to forgive his attacker.

“But I still have to stop him,” she asserted. “I’ll have to go on without you, to stop the gang before they rob the bank.”

Quincy rasped out a low laugh, and grimaced at the following pain. “I have…to tell you. I was going to…let them take…the bank first.”

“Oralee and Hoot thought you would do that. They tried to warn me,” said Fino. His confession lessened the sting of deceit. As he looked at her apologetically, the sting faded.

“I was taking…advantage of you,” Quincy added. “Your gun…”

“I have no problem using this gun to meet our goal. I chose to do this.”

The bounty hunter reached out again for her hand. “More than that…I…” He hesitated. Fino thought she saw something akin to shame in his hazel eyes.

“You wanted to take advantage of how I felt for you,” Fino finished. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to do that to me. But I believe you’re better than that.”

Quincy’s eyebrows rose. “You…know me so well?”

“Maybe not, but I do know liars and conmen. Everything you did for me, you did it because you really cared. And…” Fino stalled at first, her hand coming up to twist the fringes of her cape. “I—I want to help you because I care about you, too.”

The pallor in his cheeks gained some color.

“Besides,” Fino said with a lift of her nose and a confident smile, “I would’ve figured it out eventually. Or you would’ve confessed sooner. Trust me, you don’t want to see what I do to people who take advantage of me and think they can get away with it.”

“I suppose…so,” Quincy said. He looked at her with amusement and appreciation. “That Alternate…doesn’t know…what he lost.”

“He—He hasn’t lost me,” Fino corrected after some nervous reflection. But has he? She realized Quincy still held her hand. She liked the feel of his strong fingers wrapped around hers. Then, remembering, she said, “Your rifle—it wasn’t there when I found you. I think they took it.”

“A prize. What else…did they take?”

“I don’t know. I was in such a hurry to get you back to the station… I don’t think anyone thought to check.” She didn’t care if they’d taken anything else. All that mattered to her was Quincy. “I can get your gun back. I have the comb Alternate left behind. Maybe I can barter it for your rifle?”

“It means…that much to him?” Quincy asked curiously. He was becoming short of breath. Too much talking. “What…is…it?”

Fino decided to end the conversation. She brought the quilt up to his neck.

With one last effort, Quincy said, “Thank…you…for save…”He fell asleep.

Voices were heard outside the door. Lobo was up, and Fino could hear the flat tone of Boris responding. Then came Delora’s voice, sounding stronger than before.

Fino wanted to relish this time alone with Quincy. His breathing became deep and steady again. Morning sunlight filtered through the window and washed over him. She closed the curtains to shield him. Stubble was beginning to grow on his cheeks, and his dark auburn hair was matted from a long night of sweating out a fever. When Fino touched his forehead, it was still warm.

She felt drawn to do it. Glancing back at the door, she listened for the voices to make sure no one would come in suddenly. Then she leaned in and touched her lips to Quincy’s forehead. He didn’t awaken. As she pulled back, her eyes went to his lips. It was tempting. And she might not get another chance. She’d never kissed anyone on the lips before. But he was sleeping, and it wouldn’t be fair. _He doesn’t feel the same way about me. To him, I’m just his partner, and a kid._

It took some will for her to pull away. Just as she did, Delora rolled in, looking a little more refreshed. Fino tried to calm her pounding heart and hide the blush. Luckily the woman didn’t seem to notice.

“The others tell me you’re leaving,” Delora said with disappointment. “Going after those outlaws by yourself?”

“Yes. They stole Quincy’s rifle. I have to get it back.”

“Well, the stagecoach has already left.”

“Oh, no… I lost track of time.”

“But you should take Quincy’s horse. It’s fast. You might be able to catch up.”

Fino went back to the bunk room to gather her belongings, including the comb. It would be a gamble to try and barter the comb for the rifle. Alternate may want to since the comb has such significant meaning, but she doubted the rest of the gang would allow it, especially Holloway. Shade would certainly oppose it. But she had to try. _Or I’ll just take it back by force. Alternate wouldn’t be able to refuse with the Zodiac pointed between his eyes._ She felt guilty for thinking that. As much as she wanted to throttle him, she didn’t seriously want to hurt him.

With barely a goodbye to the others, Fino saddled and mounted Quincy’s horse Hellfire. At first the horse seemed skittish when the new rider stepped into the saddle, but Fino easily took command and directed the animal onto the road. She spurred Hellfire to a full gallop.

Dust billowed behind them. Fino leaned forward in her seat with her eyes pinned on the road ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone tells me Quincy should’ve died of his wounds, remember how much everyone bleeds in _Et Cetera_ and how often and in how many places they get shot, and yet still manage to be well enough to walk around in the next chapter. Remember when Kaufman shot Baskerville back in Vol. 1? Guy was bleeding buckets and later he was fine!


	32. Chapter 32

Every time he remembered, Alternate could feel the adrenaline surging through his veins. The image of the bounty hunter falling off his horse, the blood that soaked his clothes, and Tony rummaging through the dead man’s pockets had left Alternate disturbed. No matter how many times he relived those scenes, and no matter how often he felt the smooth barrel of the Lead Messenger, somehow he just couldn’t be happy. It didn’t make any difference that Holloway would be proud, or that Shade would be envious. All he could see was Fino’s disappointment and anger.

_“Do you think he meant something to her?”_ Tony had asked. Alternate didn’t know, and he would never know, now that the man was dead.

It shouldn’t have bothered him. Alternate had killed before, although the number of victims could be counted on one hand. It wasn’t something he normally did. Sure, he threatened people with guns to get what he wanted, but usually that was enough to scare people to comply. Too bad it hadn’t worked with the Preacher’s Kid.

_I wonder what would’ve happened if I had gone back to the station like he suggested_. Would he have been able to clear up this mess with Fino? Would she forgive him for everything he’s done up to this point? Now he was beginning to think he should’ve gone back, but it was too late.

The stars were beginning to wink in the indigo sky when Alternate and Tony came into the outlaw camp. The site was aglow with campfires, and the men rushed forward to greet their comrades, firing off questions about their journey. The pair didn’t answer any of them, heading instead for Holloway’s tent. The leader and his right-hand man were already there waiting. Holloway appeared surprised, but Shade’s face was a grim mask. The light from the fires cast shadows over the hollows of his eyes, threw an orange cast on his white clothes, and made the bells on the fringes glimmer.

The men followed Alternate and Tony to the ledge of the natural platform where their leader stood. The two dismounted, still not answering questions. Everyone seemed astonished at their early return. One man commented that they were expecting the two to be gone for several weeks. Others asked if the assassination had been successful. A few murmured their doubts.

Holloway’s surprise faded. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and looked at Alternate curiously. “You left with one horse,” he said.

“We got another,” Alternate explained simply, not wanting to recount the stagecoach robbery. Everyone would figure how he got it anyway. He stepped around to the bedroll on the back of his horse and untied it from the saddle. With Tony he went to stand before Holloway and Shade. As he stood with his fingers over the bindings of the bedroll, his heart throbbed. Tony had been gushing all the way back to camp about how pleased Holloway would be.

“Well, then, if you’re back so soon then I expect you were successful,” said Holloway. He eyed the bedroll.

Shade stayed quiet, his expression unchanging.

Alternate turned to the men. He untied the bindings and let the blankets fall to the ground where their impact puffed up the dirt around his feet. He took the rifle and lifted it high above his head for all to see. The golden barrel of the Lead Messenger gleamed in the firelight. The men gaped breathlessly at first, and then a loud cheer went up. Their adulation washed over him. Tony clapped and laughed.

Alternate faced Holloway and Shade. The leader seemed speechless as he gazed at the rifle, not sharing in the gang’s celebration. Shade, however, was apprehensive. His eyes were fixed on the gleaming body like he was seeing a noose. It wasn’t the predicted reaction.

Holloway motioned for the men to quiet down. When they managed to control their enthusiasm, he spoke. “I see you’ve actually _exceeded_ my expectations, Alternate. We underestimated your ability.” He nodded at Tony to include her. “You have done your brothers a great service, and eliminated our greatest opponent. I’m more proud of your now than when we took our first bank.”

Pride swelled in Alternate’s chest at the delighted sparkle in the older man’s eyes. “Thank you, sir. It was much easier than we thought.” He ran his hand over the rifle’s barrel and glanced at Shade. “It only took one shot.”

Mumbling ripples of amazement coursed through the men. The demon that had relentlessly pursued them for so long was killed with a single shot, and from a greenhorn no less! They all looked at him with new admiration. Holloway reflected their reactions. He instructed Alternate and Tony to follow him to his tent. Shade stayed behind, appearing as if he’d seen a ghost.

Once inside, Holloway broke into a grin. He’d never looked so happy. The rifle was placed on the table in the middle of the room. Tony deposited the pocket watch and little book with it.

“Alternate, you have become a very valuable member of this brotherhood,” Holloway said. “You have done what no one here has been able to accomplish, and for that I am forever grateful.”

“I only wish I had brought along the body,” Alternate said. The man’s words were branded on his soul.

“I need no further proof,” replied Holloway. “The rifle is enough. For your courage and dedication, the rifle is yours.”

Warm joy spread through Alternate. This was the affirmation he’d been craving. He forgot about his earlier misgivings as he basked in Holloway’s approval. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You’ve earned it,” Holloway said, grinning again. He put his hands on his hips. “Next we need to discuss—“

“The squaw,” said Shade from the entrance of the tent. He shoved aside the flap and came around to stand near Holloway, the bells jingling on his trousers. He scowled at Alternate. “You never said anything about the squaw.”

“ _Fino_ ,” Alternate stressed. “Her name is Fino!”

“Was she working with the bounty hunter?” Shade asked. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

Alternate faltered. His joy vanished like smoke. “W-Well—We didn’t—“

“Yes or no?”

Shade had threatened to do this. He was trying to trap Alternate into giving himself up over the fact that he’d let an enemy into camp. Alternate had completely forgotten about it, wrapped up as he was in the pursuit of the bounty hunter and gaining Holloway’s favor. Now that he had succeeded and was being rewarded the rifle, Shade was out for blood.

Their leader watched them intently. He must’ve also forgotten this important detail about Fino.

Alternate looked at the gun, knowing what the consequences might be once he told the truth. “Yes. She was with him at the hotel, and the clerks there told us they went to Silver Ridge.” He threw Shade a hard glare. “She was attacked by _you_ on the road to Murdoch. It took her days to recover!”

“I was protecting our interests,” Shade countered with calm. “I was suspicious, as you should’ve been.”

“Fino is the last person I would suspect to do something like this! I had no reason to doubt her. It’s… It’s about me, not the gang. She’s doing this for me.”

“Then maybe killing the girl would’ve benefited us as well?” Shade suggested.

“Y-You’re—A-Are you asking me to kill Fino?” Alternate stammered.

“No,” came Holloway’s firm answer. “I would not ask you to do that. I believe you. The one she wants here is you.”

“That’s exactly it,” Alternate said, nodding.

“But she may return,” Shade protested. “What about that gun she was carrying? Alternate, you said it had some power.”

He’d been hoping to hold on to that bit of worry. “Then let me handle it.”

“She wouldn’t listen to you before, so what makes you think she’ll listen to you now?” Shade sneered. “And what makes you think _we_ should believe you can handle her? You couldn’t make her go away the first time.”

“That’s enough, Shade,” Holloway said.

“This little tenderfoot has put our mission in danger, and yet you reward him?!”

Holloway appeared astonished. “Are you questioning my judgment?”

Shade’s face flushed red.

“And as far I know,” the leader continued, “you lied to me. You never said anything about seeing this girl going to Murdoch. Would you like to explain why you chose to withhold this information?”

“I was covering for him!” Shade said, pointing at Alternate. He wasn’t missing a beat. “Due to our success last time, I thought now would not be the time to lose our master planner, an important asset.”

“It’s not like Nate brought the entire army down on us,” Tony cut in. “It should be enough that he killed the bounty hunter. He was the biggest problem we’d ever had. But thanks to Nate, he’s gone now.” She moved to place a hand on Alternate’s shoulder. “Fino knows we mean business. I think she’ll stay away. She may even think she’s next.”

Alternate had his doubts about that, but he decided not to say anything more. He would handle Fino when the time came, whether anyone believed he could or not. However, he knew there would be no way to stop her…unless he told the absolute truth. It was incredibly risky. She could lose her patience again and ruin everything he had so carefully planned. But his careful plans had destroyed their relationship. Had it been worth it?

“We will stay on alert,” Holloway said, “but for the time being, we will not concern ourselves too much about the girl. After tomorrow, we will take the First Union.”

“But what about the guards?” Alternate asked. He thought it would be a week longer before they were ready for the robbery.

“While you were gone, we had to go in and scout the bank,” Shade explained. _Doing the job_ you _were supposed to do,_ his tone implied. “We have the new schedule for the guards. All we need is for you to adjust your plans.”

Tony squeezed Alternate’s arm with excited anticipation. “So it’s really going to happen?” she asked.

“Yes,” Holloway said with a smile, and then the smile turned devious. “We shall finally have our…reward.”

The look on the man’s face reminded Alternate of how he himself sometimes became when he was about to execute a brilliant plan. It was rare to see on Holloway, but the leader wasn’t like this during the first robbery. He’d been happy, but not filled with insidious exhilaration. There was something about this certain bank…

Holloway went on. “Tomorrow Shade and I will meet with the outside connection and relay our new information. Then we’ll hammer out the final details of the plan. After that, we will be ready.”

“But will the gang meet with the outside connection after the robbery?” Alternate asked.

“Only Shade and I will.”

“But can this person be trusted? What if he—“

“I’ve known this man for a while now. He is trustworthy.”

“You ought to take a few others along, just in case…”

Holloway chuckled. “Are you so concerned for me?”

“Holloway can handle trouble,” Shade said. “You should have a little more faith in him.”

It took considerable will to keep Alternate from punching Shade in the mouth. What Tony mentioned before about Shade and the outside connection echoed in his mind. He didn’t trust the man to be alone with Holloway. Going to meet the outside connection would create the perfect opportunity to kill Holloway and concoct a lie to claim someone else did it. Alternate wasn’t about to lose his father—again.

The meeting was dismissed. Shade stayed in the tent, but Tony and Alternate returned to the camp with the rifle, pocket watch, and book. The desert’s nighttime chill had grown sharper, and the two were eager to get their fires stared so they could cook a late dinner. Tony remained close to Alternate as they walked along, holding his hand and pressing to his side. She was glowing with joy.

“Can I ask you a question?” Alternate said.

“Of course,” Tony replied.

“Do you know why Holloway chose this particular bank?”

Tony halted, causing him to stop with her. “Um… Why do you ask?”

“There are four banks in Murdoch, but only this one has tight security. Why didn’t he choose one of the weaker banks? It’d be a lot easier.”

The safecracker prompted him to keep walking. “That’s something only Holloway can tell you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s better if he tells you.”

“Do you know what it is?” Alternate was always eager to know more about the man. Holloway kept his personal life shrouded in mystery. No matter who Alternate talked to in the gang, it seemed no one knew anything about where their leader came from. Tony usually kept her mouth shut. “Does it have something to do with why he gives so much of our loot away?” he asked.

The first time he had witnessed this, it left him stunned. After the last heist, Holloway kept very little money for himself. Even Alternate got a bigger share than he did. It almost seemed as if the man wasn’t interested in money at all. What sort of outlaw with a reputation for thievery doesn’t care about money?

Tony nodded. “It does. But it’s not right if I tell you. He should be the one to do that. I was in the gang for years before he finally told me.”

_Which means I probably won’t hear about it any time soon_ , Alternate thought with bitter disappointment. “Did he ever mention anything about my mother?”

“No. For as long as I’ve known him, he’s never had a lover or wife or anything.” Tony paused to remember. “Although I do recall him mentioning a woman who broke his heart many years ago, but he changed the subject before I could ask anything more about it. He never talked about it again. It had seemed out of character, and that’s why I remember.”

Alternate wondered if the woman had been his mother. Holloway was a striking person, confident, charismatic, and handsome. One would think a man like him could have any woman he wanted. But he was a long-time bachelor with apparently no interest in romance. Had the heartbreak been that devastating?

“But isn’t it wonderful what he said to you tonight?” Tony said with glee. She squeezed his arm again. “And he defended you against Shade! Holloway has him whipped.”

“Did you see how Shade was looking at him, though?” Alternate said. “It almost looked like he wanted to shoot him right then and there, and Holloway wants to go with him to meet the outside connection alone?”

Tony shrugged. “He trusts him. He doesn’t see anything wrong with it.”

“If they won’t let me come along, then I’ll follow them,” Alternate said decidedly. “If Shade tries anything…”

Tony gave him a worried look. “You’d do that?”

“I’ll kill him and the outside connection. I won’t let them lay a hand on Holloway.”

 

* * *

 

The rifle lay close to him throughout the night. Alternate kept thinking about the woman who broke Holloway’s heart, and the reason he’s targeting the Western American Bank. The man was an enigma, and more than ever Alternate wanted to know more about him.

The next morning, there was a brief meeting with the gang, and Holloway and Shade departed to meet the outside connection. Alternate hated to stay behind, but the time wasn’t right. For now, he had to put up with the constant questions about how he killed the bounty hunter. He recited the tale over and over again, omitting the discussion about Fino. No one seemed bothered by Fino’s alliance with their most hated enemy, or cared that Alternate had brought her into the camp. They were just elated that they would be heading for Murdoch the next day after waiting so long, and without the threat of the bounty hunter. Alternate’s back hurt from all the congratulatory slaps it had received.

It was close to noon when he was able to pull away from the men and find Tony. She had been absent, and it troubled him. He found her in her tent, kneeling on the bedrolls with her back to the door. She didn’t notice him, and sat still, hunched over something. Her blond hair spilled over her back in waves.

“Tony?” Alternate said. “Are you okay? I haven’t seen you all morning.”

She jumped at his voice and jerked about. “Oh, Nate! I’m sorry, I just…”

That’s when he noticed the dewy tears in her eyes. He promptly knelt beside her. “Tony, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He draped an arm over her shoulders.

“Th-The book,” Tony replied. Her cheeks were red and she sniffled. The little book was in her hands, closed with her thumbs stuck in the middle of the pages to keep her place.

Alternate had forgotten about the book. He figured it might’ve been a hit list, or notes on outlaws the bounty hunter was trying to find. “So, what’s wrong?” he asked.

Tony pinched her eyes shut, causing the tears to cascade down her cheeks. “It’s poetry.”

“I don’t understand.” He pried the book from her fingers. “What are you talking about?”

Every page except the last few were filled with lines of poetry. Some poems were short, only a few lines long, but others went on for pages, covering topics like love, beauty, nature, and God. Intermingled were drawings of people, plants, animals, and scenery. Alternate was awed by the skillful renditions and the moving prose.

“The guy was an artist?” he said.

“Did you see them?” Tony asked.

“See what?”

“The drawings of Fino!” Tony snatched the book back and flipped through the pages until she found the right ones. “He drew her! Look!”

Alternate’s heart leaped. The drawing showed Fino lying in a bed, bruises on her face and forehead creased in pain. Below it was a poem titled _Red Girl, Brave Girl,_ and under that were several notes about her condition. It was hard to swallow, reading about her cracked ribs, bruises, and cuts. The next page was similar, with another poem called _She Found Fault with the Heart_ and more notes.

“He cared about her,” Tony said. “Look at how many notes he kept, how he wrote about her. We should’ve thanked him, but instead we killed him!”

Alternate wondered if Fino knew about the book. Did it indicate the kind of relationship she had with the bounty hunter?

“She’s definitely coming back,” he said. He felt the dread returning. “She may have been closer to him than we thought. Fino’s not the type to just sit back when someone hurts her friends. She won’t let us get away with it.”

“I just wish we had known,” Tony said. She almost choked on the words. “Maybe—Maybe we should’ve gone back to the station like he said?”

“There’s nothing we can do about it now. It’s not going to help dwelling on what we could’ve or should’ve done.” _Fino hates me now, I just know it. She’d never love a person like me._ There would be no future for them like he had hoped. The thought made him feel sick.

“Listen, don’t show that book to anyone, not even Holloway,” Alternate said. “Keep it hidden.”

“But why?”

“When Fino comes back, we’ll give it to her. If someone here gets ahold of it, they might destroy it. That wouldn’t be right.” He brought Tony close. “And you didn’t kill him, _I_ did. You’re not guilty of anything. There was no way we could’ve known about this.”

Tony closed the book and tucked it away under her pillow. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “Did we kill an innocent man?” she mumbled.

“Innocent?” Alternate said incredulously. “You forget what he’s done to nearly half this gang! Remember that time Stanz and Ignacio were shot off their horses on our way to Golden?”

Tony sniffled. “Holloway made us leave them behind.”

“And then Vic right after that?”

“Yeah…”

Anyone who had been shot by the Preacher’s Kid and couldn’t make it to safety was left for dead. Only one man, Rondo, had survived a hit and remained with the gang. That had been because he hadn’t fallen off his horse. Everyone stayed clear of him for fear the bounty hunter would come back to finish the job—and take out anyone standing near him.

“And the way the guy never showed himself? He was crazy. He wanted to take out every last one of us—”

“He wanted Shade,” Tony asserted. “I’m sure of that.”

“Then it’s too bad he didn’t get Shade sooner.”

Alternate left the tent. It annoyed him that Tony had suddenly become sympathetic of the person who had almost destroyed the Black Eagles. He had believed the bounty hunter ruthless and cold, the same as Blush. He picked off outlaws like he was hunting animals. Doing it from a distance made Alternate even angrier. But had he been wrong about the man?

He couldn’t shake the guilt. The question remained in his mind: what kind of relationship had the Preacher’s Kid had with Fino? They couldn’t have known each other long, yet the words the man wrote were warm and compassionate. He _had_ cared about Fino. And Alternate murdered him.

Fino would be coming soon.


	33. Chapter 33

By the time the light of the morning sun blessed the land with its warmth, the Black Eagles’ camp was already packed up. The atmosphere was electrified with excitement and anticipation, so much so that it made the horses nervous.

Alternate and Tony spent most of the morning in a meeting with Holloway and Shade, going over the final pieces of the plan. Holloway seemed just as thrilled as the men, which was very unusual. He’d been calm and collected during the last robbery, but there was something about this particular bank that almost got him giddy. His eyes glittered with malicious intent when they discussed the entry and escape. Alternate had been taken aback when Holloway said that anyone who opposed them would be shot dead. More often the leader preferred as few casualties as possible, sparing women, children, and anyone who begged for their life. But for some reason he was less concerned with the body count this time. It was like the man Alternate knew to be reasonable, tolerant, and even compassionate suddenly walked out last night. This was a side of Holloway he had never seen before, yet it was a side of his own self he recognized. It was disturbing.

Neither Shade nor Tony made it obvious that Holloway seemed out of character. Shade, of course, was immune, being a twisted monster himself. But did Tony think this was normal?

When the meeting was dismissed, Holloway asked Alternate to stay.

“I sense in you some reluctance about this,” the leader said, rolling up the map from the table and replacing it in its tube. “Do you have any reservations about the plans?”

“I—I have no doubts about the plans,” Alternate replied. “It’s just I…”

“Are you worried about the girl?”

“Well, not exactly. I mean, I do have reason to believe she’ll come back, but…“ He hesitated, debating with himself over the next words. “I’ve never seen you this excited. Why is that? Why this bank?”

Holloway tapped the tube against his head and smiled. “I plan on retiring after this. The men and Tony can choose their own paths, but I will leave after our mission is complete. I would like to, let’s say…go out with a ‘bang.’”

Of course by “bang” he meant using dynamite after their escape.

This new information left Alternate reeling. Holloway had never indicated before that he planned on retiring. “I-Is that the only reason?” Alternate asked when he found his voice again.

Holloway straightened as if surprised by the question. “No, but it’s not something you need to worry about.”

“Where do you plan on going?”

The leader chuckled. “Do you need to know?”

Alternate had wanted to wait until after the heist to talk to about his mother with Holloway, but sudden urgency took hold of him. He resisted. He had to stick with the plan.

“No, I guess I don’t,” he replied.

His heart sank knowing Holloway intended to leave. _And that would leave me alone again, with no home and no Papa._ And no Fino. Well, he would have Tony. She wasn’t going anywhere. He could be thankful for that.

“I would appreciate it if you kept this information private,” Holloway said. “You are the only one I’ve told.” He went about gathering items off the table and tucking them away into a bag. He bedding and clothing were already packed. All that was left now were the table and the tent.

Alternate watched him. “How soon do you plan on leaving?”

“After we meet the outside connection and the men have their shares distributed. From there I will announce what I want to do.”

_That could be as soon as tonight_. When would he have time to talk to him between now and then? “You’re not at least going spend the night with the men? What’s going to happen to the Black Eagles?”

“I will disband them. I’ve spent too many years cultivating their reputation to allow anyone else to inherit my masterpiece.” Holloway stopped packing and looked at him. “And no, I will not spend the night. I must leave as soon as possible because the law will be on my heels— _our_ heels, I should say. I will order the men to scatter. Everyone should head for Mexico, where American law cannot reach us.”

“I’m sure everyone will be disappointed,” said Alternate. He gave a weak smile. “I mean, they like you. I like you. I’ll miss you.” He instantly regretted those last words. They sounded childish.

The leader laughed at that. “You sound like a boy missing his father.”

He was. He missed the one who was dead and the one who was alive right in front of him.

Holloway came and placed his hands on Alternate’s shoulders, his grip strong and reassuring. He was beaming. “You will go and do great things. I can see it in you. You will turn the world upside-down and shake the foundations of the status quo.”

_Does crushing the Syndicate count?_ “I… I hope so,” was all Alternate could say.

When he left the tent, he already felt like the world was upside-down. He never guessed Holloway wanted to leave the bandit life. What would the man do after he moved to Mexico, farm? Alternate couldn’t imagine him leaning on a plow to plant corn or beans. It was silly. But maybe that was what he wanted, to live out the rest of his in peace as a normal person.

Time was running out, and much faster than Alternate had expected. He thought he had at least a few more days to muster his courage to talk to Holloway. He would have to get the man alone before he met with the outside connection, and that would be right after the robbery. It seemed like poor timing to do it that way, but what other choice did he have?

The men were almost ready to go. Alternate made sure to check the boxes of dynamite. Earlier he’d made calculations of how much was needed and figured they had more than enough. A building pre-selected in Murdoch would be razed to serve as a distraction for the townspeople and authorities. Sticks of dynamite would be placed outside the bank, and each man would carry one or two. Three men would be stationed outside, hidden from view, waiting for their comrades to emerge from the bank when the deed was done. Then, the sticks would be lit, and the gang would flee. They would drop more sticks in their wake, and throw some at anyone who dared to follow.

Alternate hadn’t wanted to do it. Like Holloway, he wanted to minimize casualties to innocent bystanders. But last time, before the first robbery, he had mentioned an idea about setting a building on fire to distract law enforcement. It had worked in Las Vegas when he had worked with Blush. Then he changed his mind when Holloway worried the fire could spread and consume the town. He didn’t want that on his hands. Shade, though, found the idea fascinating and worth trying. He never received a reprimand for acting without orders. That had perplexed Alternate. Did it mean Holloway approved?

He closed the lid on one of the boxes and observed the men. There were conversations about how they would spend their share of the loot. They were expecting to get a significant sum, more than they had ever taken. Some of the men talked about visiting whorehouses and finding a woman. Others wanted to buy a whole new outfit, new weapons, or a new horse. But even those things would leave them with a lot of leftover change. The money was more than they knew what to do with.

Alternate hadn’t thought about what he would do with his money. The last share he got went mostly untouched, being used for things like hotels and food. Perhaps, like Holloway, he didn’t care about the money. He didn’t care about the money because he didn’t care to go robbing banks. He didn’t care to be an outlaw, period. That wasn’t why he was here. He hated being here. Had he found a different way to do this he would’ve. But the day he left Fino and her village behind he’d had an idea, one he wasn’t sure would work, but it had. Coming to the Black Eagles had put him within reach of his goal when other efforts had failed.

_And if it doesn’t work, then I’ll have created more damage than good. It would all be for naught._ Alternate had already gone over all the worst case scenarios, and tried to devise methods to avoid them. But there was always the possibility…

With the Lead Messenger in a scabbard on his saddle, Alternate mounted his horse and got in position behind Shade and his white horse. Alternate found the color of the animal ironic. Shade, demon that he was, rode a white stallion like an archangel out of Heaven. The only thing he lacked was a shining sword. The Preacher’s Kid, on the other hand, who had fought on the side of law and civility, had ridden a pitch black mustang straight from Hell.

In front of Shade was Holloway on his prized chocolate-brown quarter horse. It had a mane that was almost blond when the sunlight hit it just right. Although he was in the vulnerable front-line position, Holloway had insisted on always leading the procession, like a king leading his army into battle. The men admired him for it. It was sad that this would be the last day the Black Eagles would ride together, and no one else knew it yet.

The gang moved out into the wilderness. If they kept moving without stopping, they would reach Murdoch by evening. The bank would be closed by then, but the guards would remain vigilant into the night. An evening attack would reduce resistance from townsfolk, as most people would be settling down by then. Using dynamite and fire as a distraction would hopefully eliminate the remainder, namely lawmen. They would only have to contend with the guards. With twenty-five people in the gang, taking out those few guards wouldn’t be difficult.

The land stretched out before them. A cloud of dust trailed behind the gang as they traveled. Tony rode beside Alternate, humming a happy tune. Her song calmed his nerves. She was usually chipper right before a big haul. She lived on the excitement, and would be sorely disappointed when Holloway announced his retirement. Alternate wondered what she would decide to do. Would she continue the outlaw life, or settle down and live as a law-abiding citizen? Like Holloway, she’d have to go into hiding, someplace where the bounties here had no value.

Then Alternate wondered about himself. Would he try to follow Holloway? He couldn’t go back to Fino’s village, and he had never tried to earn a living before. At first he lived off Gordy’s successes in gold mining, and then turned to thievery as he got older. Alternate wouldn’t know the first thing about having a real job. But now that he was wanted by the law in these parts, he’d have to go into hiding as well.

He was sure the men would be just as lost at the end of the day. Several would probably remain outlaws, but that’s not the way Alternate wanted to live, not anymore. At this point he didn’t know where to go or what to do. What other skills did he have besides the ones he’d honed as a thief?

Alternate leaned back and reached into one of his saddle bags. He could feel the buckskin shirt in there, the one Fino had sewn him. It had been with him the entire time, but he couldn’t bear to wear it knowing what he had to do. It would always remind him of her.

Beyond the shirt he felt for something else. His fingers at last found it, and he pulled out an eagle feather. The vanes had been split badly from being stored so dishonorably. He’d almost forgotten about it. This was the feather Fino gave him after defeating the Syndicate. She said warriors among her people were granted one after committing an act of bravery in battle. Yaghi also received one. The boy was immensely proud of it and liked to wear it often, saying someday he would earn enough to create an entire war bonnet.

_I don’t deserve mine_ , Alternate thought. _Not after what I’ve had to do_. _I lied to her, and I’m still lying to her_. _I’m a coward, through and through_. He put the feather away with regret. He could just throw it away, but he felt that would be a terrible insult. Instead, he would keep it until a day came when he felt he earned it again.

The gang stopped once at a spring to rest. It was past noon and uncomfortably hot. The dry heat made Alternate’s mouth feel like it was filled with cotton. He gladly drank what he needed at the spring and filled two canteens. He then splashed some water on his face and soaked a blue bandana to wrap around his neck. He decided he would like to use his money to move someplace with lots of water. He was tired of living in the dry desert.

The men trekked out again. They were halfway to Murdoch now. Even with miles to go, Alternate’s heart raced with anticipation. As the day wore on, his fears about Fino faded, but his fears about the meeting with the outside connection replaced them. Everything was leading up to that point. The robbery had to happen. It was the single most important step in his plan. Without it, he wouldn’t accomplish anything.

The sun was just beginning to creep into the western horizon when the procession came to a sudden halt. Alternate, lost in his thoughts, had let his horse lag toward the back of the group. Holloway raised a fist to signal the stop. Alternate craned his neck to see what the problem was, but couldn’t see over the mass of heads and horses.

“Seems there’s a problem,” came a slow drawl beside him. The man who spoke, Rawly, was a short man skinnier than Alternate, somewhere in his forties, and boasted a mean scar that ran from his right collarbone all the way to his scalp. He liked to tell the story of how he got that scar in a fight with a descendant of a Conquistador over a hoard of secret Spanish gold. He lost, apparently. The man chewed a wad of tobacco and spat off to the side. “Maybe someone seen us,” he added, not sounding particularly perturbed.

“We’re traveling off the roads,” Alternate pointed out. “This desert is…well, deserted. No one would be crazy enough to travel off the roads alone. The roads are easier.”

“Not unless they was _banditos_ like us,” Rawly replied. He squinted at the head of the group. “Here she comes.”

From the front, Tony directed her horse toward Alternate. Her expression was tight with worry and she looked pale. The men watched after her, muttering amongst themselves and mirroring her concern.

“Nate, you better come up front,” she said. “This is bad.”

Alternate spurred his horse forward. “What’s the matter? Is it a marshal?”

“Worse. It’s Fino.”

His heart sped up considerably. _No, not now_... _Not when I’m so close!_ “How did she get back here so fast?!”

“She keeps saying she wants to talk to you only,” Tony explained. “She won’t say anything else.”

They rode together to the front. Shade had his revolver handy, but Holloway leaned forward in his saddle with his arms resting on the pommel. When Alternate arrived, the man shot him an irritable glance. It was the kind a parent would give a child if the child had been commanded to clean his room, and he better do it soon or else he won’t get any desert at dinner. Or at least that’s how Alternate saw it.

Fino sat astride the bounty hunter’s black stallion. She clutched the reins in one hand, but in the other she held the Zodiac, loaded and ready no doubt. Her dark eyes her cold, but they glinted dangerously when Alternate approached her.

“I guess I don’t have to ask why you’re here,” he said, schooling calm into his countenance.

Her gaze went to the rifle in the scabbard. “I want the rifle,” she declared. “It doesn’t belong to you.”

Shade spoke up. “Oh, it certainly wouldn’t belong to _you_ now, would it?”

“Of course not,” Fino snapped back. “It belongs to its rightful owner.”

“A dead man? What, do you plan on burying it with him?”

“She’s talking to _me_ , Shade,” Alternate cut in. “Butt out.”

“He’s not dead,” Fino replied.

Holloway slowly sat up in his seat. The men had gone quiet, and Shade’s sneer went slack.

“What do you mean, he’s not dead?” Alternate asked. The calm fled his voice. “I shot him, and I saw him fall. He was bleeding all over the ground!” He flung a hand at Tony. “I have a witness!”

“You missed his heart,” Fino told him. “The man who owns the stage station—his father—is a doctor. He saved Quincy’s life.”

“So where is he now, eh?” Shade asked, mustering a grin. “Lying in bed, I bet. Can’t move a muscle.” He chuckled, albeit nervously. “He sent a girl to do his job.”

Fino’s black eyes slid over to glare at him. “Damn right.”

The outlaw seemed stricken and closed his mouth.

“I want the rifle,” Fino reiterated.

“And what makes you think we’ll just give it to you?” Holloway said. His tone had taken on a hard and dangerous edge.

“I don’t,” replied Fino. She let go of the reins and went for something in the back of her sash. All the while she never lost her attention on Alternate. When she pulled out the comb, Alternate gasped. He hadn’t seen the comb in a few days and figured it was safe inside the bag he got from the station. The only things he’d grabbed out of there recently were his revolvers and some cash. He never bothered to look inside the bag.

“I want to make a trade,” Fino said. “I’ll give you this comb if you give me the rifle.”

Shade chortled. “You call that a trade? You want to trade the famous Lead Messenger for a stupid little comb?”

Alternate was fixated on the comb. _I left it back at the station. I’m such an idiot!_ How could he have been so careless with something so precious?

“Nate,” Tony mumbled. She gave him a concerned look, knowing the comb’s value.

Holloway was on the verge of losing it. “Little girl, you best turn around and go back where you came from. I am not in the mood to play games.”

“That’s fine,” Fino said with a shrug, “because I’m not here for you.” She returned her focus on Alternate. “I know what this comb means to you. It belonged to your mother, didn’t it? Surely it means more to you than that gun.”

“His mother?” Shade wondered aloud.

“Quiet,” Holloway ordered him. He appeared suddenly interested in the conversation, his eyes flicking from Alternate to Fino.

Alternate felt a trickle of sweat trail down his back. More prickled at his temples. He thought about the canteen hanging off the saddle horn in front of him, but he couldn’t take his sights from the comb. It was the only shred of evidence he had left of his mother. There were no memories, no pictures, or even stories to be told. And the only person who knew what happened to her took the truth to his grave. Alternate wanted to trade for it. There was no arguing what was more important to him.

But when he looked at Holloway, he knew he couldn’t do it. _He let me have this rifle because I made him proud. Even though I ended up failing instead, it doesn’t seem right that I would trade it for a comb. He doesn’t understand what it means._ Besides,the rifle would get back into the bounty hunter’s hands. He could go after Holloway then.

“No,” Alternate finally said. “I won’t do it.”

Fino gaped in amazement. She hadn’t expected that answer. “You would refuse?”

“I can’t give up this gun. I need it.”

“I didn’t want to have to do this.” Fino lifted the Zodiac and aimed it at him. “Give me the rifle. When you do, I want you all to turn around and give up on the bank.”

It started low, and then increased in volume as the men began laughing in unison. The only people not laughing were Holloway, Alternate, and Tony.

Alternate felt streams of sweat running down his face now. This was typical of how it went. People didn’t take her seriously and thought the gun was a toy. Plus, they had been planning this robbery for a long time. A girl with a gun, real or not, wasn’t going to convince them to give up.

“Fino, I _can’t_ give you the rifle,” he said firmly. “ _Please_ , just go—“

“I’m not letting any of you go until you hand me that rifle,” Fino interrupted. “We can stand here all day if you want, and all night.”

“Someone just shoot her already!” a man whined from the back.

Alternate dismounted and walked toward her. He spread out his hands to show he meant no harm. The black stallion snorted and took a step back. “Fino…I want you to keep the comb for me. Keep it safe.”

“Why would I want this?” she spat, shaking the comb in her fist. “I don’t need anything of yours. If you don’t take it now, I’ll throw it away off a cliff somewhere.”

He tried to think of what more he could say, but everything he could say he couldn’t say in front of the men. “You have to trust me with this.” In a lower voice only she could hear, he added, “This isn’t what it looks like. I’m doing this for you, too.”

Fino paused at his words. Her brow creased as she looked at him with confusion and interest. He had expected her to argue, so this was a new development.

“You need to go,” Alternate said. He glanced at Holloway. The man was leaning forward in his saddle again, seeming just as confused and curious as Fino. Shade glowered at them, and Tony, now out the saddle with her hand on her gun, watched with trepidation. The men were growing querulous and impatient. They were losing time.

“If that’s how you feel…” Fino began.

Alternate refrained from expelling a relieved sigh. Instead, he smiled. “Thank you, Fino. I just want you to be safe.” He started back for his horse.

“If that’s how you feel, then I have no choice but to stop you right here,” she finished.

Alternate saw his shadow extend in front of him. He barely had enough time to turn around before he was shoved to the ground. He was blinded by the light and squeezed his eyes shut, curling into a ball to protect himself. He felt the searing heat of the bullet’s passage above him. Screams tore the air, and horses shrieked. Their hooves kicked up dust in a panic, the men swearing loudly as they tried to maintain control. Shots rang out from the Zodiac, over and over as Fino fired one bullet after another. Alternate dared to look up. The bullets bounced up and knocked men and horses to the ground. A Scorpio bullet. He could almost see the ghostly stinger at the head.

“Fino, stop!” he yelled, but his entreaty was drowned out by the chaos.

The men began firing shots of their own, but the Scorpio bullets kept up their rampage. The whole scene was a cacophony of terror.

The gunfire ceased after what felt like a full minute. Alternate was still curled on the ground with his arms over his head. Low moans could be heard through the haze of dust. Horses whinnied. Some of the men shouted for their comrades.

“Tony?” Alternate called. The haze was beginning to settle. Most of the men looked like dark lumps on the ground. The larger lumps were horses. Others scurried about, appearing unharmed.

He saw Tony a few feet away, unmoving on her side. Her hat had fallen off and her guns were still in their holsters. Her blonde hair was tangled over her face.

“Tony!” Alternate went and turned her over, clearing the hair from her face. “Tony! Are you okay?”

She didn’t respond. That’s when Alternate saw the blackened scar high on her right shoulder. Her jacket had been torn open from the impact. The skin was black and red.

Alternate hugged her close. Fino had intended to shoot him, but Tony knocked him down and was clipped by the bullet.

Fino. Where was Fino? He looked back and found a surprise. Holloway had his weight on top of the girl. The man’s knee dug into her back, with one hand pressed down on the side of her head, grinding Fino’s cheek into the ground. In Holloway’s other hand he held the Zodiac, having wrested it from her grasp. The barrel of the gun smoked.

A short distance away on the ground was the Lead Messenger. In the bedlam, Fino must’ve tried to take it.

Shade staggered toward them, coughing and appearing uninjured, the bells jingling on his trousers. His white clothes were sullied and his blonde hair coated with dust. He stomped toward Fino and Holloway. “Bitch!” he erupted. “You redskin bitch from Hell! I ought to cut your arms and legs off! Turn you into a stump!”

Holloway grabbed Fino by the collar and yanked her up. He turned her about roughly and lifted her off the ground with one hand, handling her like a cloth doll. She pried at his ironclad hold.

“I would have to agree with my partner here,” Holloway said. He shook Fino once. “I have had enough of your interference. You will not go free this time.”

“She’s ruined everything!” Shade ranted. “Look at our men! Probably half our force is down. We can’t work like this!” He stopped and locked his sights on Alternate. He stormed over, and before Alternate could stand to defend himself, Shade landed a right hook across Alternate’s face, sending him sprawling. “This is your fault, you little shit! You said you could handle her!”

The metallic taste of blood filled Alternate’s mouth. He spat, and crawled back to Tony. She moaned and rolled her head to the side, cringing at the pain in her shoulder.

“N…Nate?” she said in a cracked voice. She grabbed at her shoulder and opened her eyes. “Wh… What happened…?”

Alternate didn’t have the energy to reply. He smoothed the hair out of her face and held her. A few of the men stirred, helped by their fellows to stand or sit.

Shade was right. There was no way they could continue like this. All his fears about Fino had been justified, and in front of Holloway no less.

“Let me kill her now,” Shade said. He held a revolver pointed at Fino. Holloway had lowered her to the ground, but kept a grip on her collar.

“No,” Holloway replied. “This girl has information.”

“About _what_?” Shade asked. “What could she possibly—“

“Information that could benefit me personally.”

Shade laughed in a manic sort of way. “This girl destroyed your mission—the one you dreamed of for years!—and you want to let her live so she can satisfy your personal curiosities?” He holstered his gun and walked away, still bubbling with laughter. He had kept his horse from running off earlier, and grabbed a large bundle of rope off the back of the saddle. He tossed it to Holloway. “If that’s what you want, then go ahead and hogtie that prize squaw you think is so valuable.”

Alternate was mortified by Shade’s brazen disrespect. But Holloway said nothing. He took the rope and began tying Fino’s wrists, and wrapped her legs from ankles to knees. He finished it by tying more rope around her arms. Fino didn’t put up a fight, knowing a struggle would make the situation worse.

“We stay here tonight,” Holloway announced to the men when he stood. “In the morning, we’ll return to the hills and recover.” He swept his gaze over the gang to make a quick assessment of their condition. “We ought to be ready again in a few days. Anyone who has not recovered in that time will still travel with us, but not go with us to the bank. You will still receive your shares.”

The men were sullen. A few were badly injured by the bullets and lying unconscious.

Fino held her head high without regret.


	34. Chapter 34

The night was cold. Clouds partly covered the sky and obscured the moon, darkening the land. The outlaws had their fires going strong, but they guttered in the stiff wind that swept over the encampment. Tent walls flapped and fluttered. The men huddled in jackets and blankets. Many had bandages over their bodies from Fino’s assault. Those who’d been hit hardest were resting in their tents being tended by their brethren.

In one such tent lay Tony. Her shoulder had been cleaned and bandaged by the gang’s resident physician, if he could be called such. If Alternate remembered correctly, Benson had dropped out of medical school to head to the gold fields in California, only to find there wasn’t much gold to be found. Then he got sucked into gambling and owed a tremendous debt to some local town gang somewhere. Benson went on and on about the story until Alternate had quit listening and only knew that eventually the man made it into the Black Eagles. Even so, he was knowledgeable about basic medical practices and had seen to everyone’s injuries.

Tony was weak and didn’t have much use of her right arm. The shoulder burned something fierce when she tried to move it, so her arm lay limp beside her. Holloway had come in earlier to see how she was doing, but had said nothing to Alternate, wouldn’t even look at him. As for Shade, it was told the man hadn’t stopped ranting and was moody. Alternate made a mental note to steer clear of him.

After taking a drink from a canteen, Tony sat back on her blankets and sighed. “You weren’t kidding about that gun,” she said. “What a strange thing. Where did she get it?”

Alternate was reluctant to tell the story because of how crazy it might sound. He tried to explain how the gun had been made using ancient Chinese magical arts, and there was a twin gun owned by another friend of his, but it all seemed to go over Tony’s head. “My dad, Gordy, was looking for the Eto Gun. Later I found out there was a Zodiac Gun, too. Fino’s tribe regarded it as their sacred treasure and had it hidden in their holy mountain. That was before my dad showed up and dug the mines there.” That was a short of it, at least. He could spend hours detailing the entire saga. “It’s a good thing Fino got us when she did. She could’ve shot us while we were at the bank. Then the sheriff could’ve caught us and locked us up.”

There was another positive twist to this situation. Fino had not only delayed the robbery, but also Holloway’s departure. Alternate now had more time to think of what he wanted to say, and when. Now was not a good time, of course. It seemed Holloway was displeased with him. But Alternate hoped he would still be allowed to be in the robbery.

Fino was chained to the wagon, not even given her own shelter. At Alternate’s insistence she was granted a full canteen and a blanket to keep off the chill. But she was refused any food. The men were not permitted to harass her, and Alternate was forbidden to speak with her. When he tried to argue about it Holloway had given him a subtle threat. Alternate would be “thrust” from his “position,” which was the leader’s way of saying he’d be kicked out of the gang.

“Why was your dad looking for the gun?” Tony asked. She had given him a wide-eyed stare at the story, but after a time she relaxed and seemed to accept it.

Alternate fiddled with a roll of bandages Benson left behind for use later. “He… He was a member a criminal group who wanted him to find it.”

“Were you with that group, too?”

“No. When I found out about the Eto Gun, I wanted to find it, too. I thought it would give me great power, so…”

“Sounds like things didn’t work out.”

“They didn’t, and I’m glad they didn’t. Otherwise I wouldn’t have met Fino or my other friends.” But now it seemed all those things had disintegrated and turned to ashes. Those people had since gone out of his life, and soon Fino would, too.

“So is your dad still looking for the gun?” Tony asked.

This was something he hadn’t told anyone about. When he joined the Black Eagles, a few long-time members had asked what Gordy was up to these days. It was a known fact Holloway and Gordy had been rivals for a certain woman’s affection, making them hostile enemies ever since. Alternate responded by saying his father was still deep in the earth he loved digging in.

It never seemed to bother Holloway to know Alternate was the son of his nemesis, even while Gordy was still alive. This puzzled him.

“No,” he answered. “He’s not looking for it anymore.”

“That’s good, then.” Tony went to touch her shoulder and winced. She seemed sad. “I can’t believe she shot us—I can’t believe she tried to shoot _you_. Shade, sure, and maybe Holloway, but not you.”

“I can believe it,” said Alternate. He set the bandages aside. “And I can’t blame her.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Not really. If anything I feel sorry for her. She’s angry and frustrated, and for good reason. It’s my fault.”

Tony reached out for his hand. “Stay with me tonight. I don’t trust Shade. He looks like he wants to—“

“Slit my throat?” Alternate finished with a bitter smile. “I suppose I can’t blame him, either. But the way he was talking to Holloway earlier…?”

“Holloway’s pretty forgiving. Sometimes I think it might be his downfall, but that’s just the way he is. He’ll forgive you, too.”

“But he won’t forgive Fino.”

Tony took a moment to think about that. “He might not,” she conceded, “but he let her live. I wonder what he wants with her.”

Alternate had a good guess. Fino mentioned his mother when she offered the comb. If Holloway wanted to get information out of her, she might say too much. Yet there was nothing he could do. Let come what may, he decided. If Fino spilled the beans, then it might actually work to his benefit. Holloway might become more inclined to speak with him.

“Do you still have the little book?” Alternate asked.

Tony’s face brightened. “I do. I’m happy to hear the bounty hunter is still alive, aren’t you?”

“You are? Well, I guess I’m glad, too. Even though Holloway thinks I failed… I was hoping maybe I could give the book back to Fino, but it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to do that.” If she hadn’t been so dead-set on the Lead Messenger, Alternate would’ve offered the book for the comb. But now the comb was in Holloway’s possession. He saw Holloway pick it up out of the dirt after Fino had dropped it. When Alternate had asked for it, Holloway had given him the cold shoulder.

“Are you hungry?” Alternate asked Tony.

“Oh, I’m starving,” Tony replied.

“Then I’ll get something made up for you.”

 

* * *

 

Shivering under her blanket, Fino yearned for a seat beside one of the fires. The blanket staved off the cold for the most part, but when the wind picked up it went right through her. She tried to keep the blanket closed around her, but it was awkward with her hands and arms bound. But worse than that were the chains that were layered over the ropes and attached to a wagon wheel behind her.

Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since morning. After catching up with the stagecoach a few days ago, she made to it Murdoch long before Alternate and Tony, and then headed out the following morning to camp in the vicinity of the outlaws. She didn’t stay in the same place as last time, or dare approach outlaws again. Occasionally she’d spot one of the men leave the camp to scout. Fino had chosen to hide out on the other side of a small ridge that jutted up through the mostly-flat landscape. That way the men never saw her, but she always saw them. She had watched Alternate and Tony return, and when the men brought out the wagon she knew they were getting ready to leave. She had packed up and rushed to get ahead of them.

Alternate’s refusal of the comb had surprised Fino at first, but then she understood why. Offering the comb in front of the gang had made it difficult since he was more pressured to refuse. However, Fino hadn’t wanted to use the Zodiac, nor did she intend to hit Tony. When she saw the safecracker knock Alternate to the ground to protect him, Fino was horrified. The young woman cared enough about him to risk her life. Guilt clutched at Fino’s heart.

She waited for him, but Alternate never came. After being set apart from the men and chained to the wagon she was left alone. Holloway had probably ordered it. But she was lonely, and more than anything she wanted Alternate to come talk to her. She was ready to tell him everything, since she wasn’t sure she would be allowed to live much longer. She kept expecting Shade to come up and put a bullet between her eyes.

The blanket slipped off her shoulder and Fino tried to pull it back up. As she was fumbling with it she heard footsteps approach. She tensed. Holloway walked toward her, appearing tired but perhaps determined. It was hard to read his expression with the firelight at his back, but she did notice something wrapped in his fist and the Zodiac in his other hand.

He knelt on one knee in front of her and was so close Fino could smell his musty sweat. The chains clinked as she tried to inch away, but her back pressed against the wagon wheel.

Holloway was silent for a short period before speaking, noting her apprehension. “You mentioned something earlier that I would like to hear about.”

Fino looked him up and down nervously. “Wh-What?”

Holloway opened his fist to show the comb. “Where did you get this?”

“It’s Alternate’s. He left it on accident at a stagecoach station.”

“Where did he get it?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking him?”

“I’m asking _you_!”

Fino recoiled from his sharp reply. “H-He got it out of his father’s basement.”

“Gordy’s?”

She nodded.

The outlaw leader thumbed the prongs on the comb and studied the pearls on the rim. “What more do you know?”

“About what?”

Holloway took on a melancholy air. Another gust of wind howled over the camp, stirring up grit and sending it swirling around the pair. Holloway didn’t seem bothered.

“Do you know anything more about Alternate’s mother?” he asked.

“No. He never talked to me about it. I don’t even know if the comb is really hers. I overheard him talking about her and figured it was hers.”

“Gordy made this?”

“Yes.”

Holloway chuckled and shook his head. “I may have hated him, but I can’t deny he was a fine craftsman. Does he still do this?”

“No. He’s dead.”

Holloway’s head snapped up. “What? How?”

“He was murdered, by the same person who killed my parents.” Fino thought it wouldn’t hurt to tell. It couldn’t make her situation worse. “Alternate and I were looking for the killer. We have a better chance of finding him if we work together.” She felt heat rise in her cheeks. “Alternate—He was my best friend. I wanted to be with him, because I…I love him.”

Holloway eased to the ground to sit and listen, setting the Zodiac in his lap. He kept the comb in his hand.

“I just wanted him to come home with me,” Fino added. “It’s not like him to be doing this.”

With a thoughtful frown, Holloway stared at the comb. His thumbnail traced the bottom edges of the pearls. Fino was growing uncomfortable with his quiescence. But he was contemplating something.

The wind picked up again and Fino pinched the blanket closed around her neck. The feather in her headband twitched like it might tear free. If her hands weren’t bound as they were, Fino would remove it and tuck it away. That and the blanket was finally in a position to keep her warm.

Holloway was impervious to the cold, apparently, but he wore a long duster that seemed heavy enough to keep him warm. One side of the collar turned up and flapped against his neck. He kept smoothing his thumb over the pearls.

Some of the fires in the camp were put out as the men headed for bed. The tent Fino knew to be Tony’s remained lit within, and earlier Alternate was outside cooking something over the fire. He would often glance in her direction.

“So, they killed him,” Holloway said at last. His orotund voice grew soft.

“Who did?” Fino asked. She was pretty sure it had been Blush who killed Gordy. Who was this “they”?

“It was what she was afraid of. She said if she ever disobeyed, they would kill her. Then one day she disappeared. I would’ve asked Gordy, except he threatened to snap my neck if he ever saw me again.” Holloway chuckled bitterly. It sounded more like he was talking to himself, diving deep into old memories. “The last I saw her she was with child.” His hand came up to wipe his face as if to rub away the grief that had suddenly resurfaced there.

If the child in the woman’s womb had been Alternate, then she had at least lived long enough to give birth. What happened after that was anyone’s guess. Maybe she’d been murdered and her remains scattered over the desert. It would make sense that Gordy didn’t want to talk about what happened to her, leaving his adopted son in the dark his whole life.

“So,” Fino began, “do you think the comb belonged to this woman?”

Holloway didn’t seem to have an answer. He stood up. “You carry quite an interesting gun,” he said regarding the Zodiac. “However, it seems unable to fire and doesn’t take normal bullets.”

“Only I’m able to fire that gun,” Fino explained. _There’s a trick to it,_ she wanted to add, but chose not to. She didn’t want to pique his interest, not when it appeared he wasn’t too terribly interested to begin with. The man turned to leave without further questions when Fino said, “W-Wait! Please, don’t punish Alternate. If you’re going to punish someone, punish me.”

Holloway stared at her for a few seconds, and then started back for camp.

Alternate had already been punished, Fino decided. No, the worst was yet to come. His ultimate punishment would be the noose, and Fino was helpless now to prevent it. As long as Quincy was out of commission…

Her thoughts traveled back to the bounty hunter. She missed him. Funny how that was. They barely knew each other. But she longed to return to the station so she could help him heal. Let Alternate rob the bank. He was responsible for his own fate, not her.

Holloway strode across the camp to his tent. Shade caught up to him and they began to converse on their way. On the other side of the cluster of tents stood Alternate, talking to a man who held what looked like a small, brown bottle. They spoke for a few minutes, and then Alternate departed. He glanced at Fino again, and his steps faltered. They stared at each other, Alternate looking tempted to go over to her, but he turned away and headed for Tony’s tent.

 

* * *

 

Fino fell asleep against the wagon wheel. The wind had died down a little, giving everyone a relief from the cold gusts. It was probably around midnight when the last fire was snuffed out and the lights were extinguished in the remaining tents. Fino had a fitful slumber, waking up almost every half-hour it seemed, although she couldn’t quite tell because the moon was hidden most of the time behind clouds. Her muscles were cramped from the ropes, always interrupting her dreams with demands to be stretched.

It was after one of these interruptions that Fino saw someone walking toward her with a lantern. Her first thought was Shade coming to exact revenge for foiling their plans. But a monocle gleamed in the lantern’s light. She sat up and pulled the blanket tighter around her, heart pounding.

Alternate came and seated himself in front of her. They sat there together, listening to a coyote yipping somewhere out in the wilderness. A cloud crept away from the moon, allowing its faint glow to wash over the ground and catch on the canvas of the tents, turning them white.

A lump formed in Fino’s throat as she watched him. She wanted to crawl into his arms and cry on his shoulder, but at the same time she wanted to beat him with her fists. In her mind she kept seeing the hole in Quincy’s chest seeping blood, his face pale and voice weak. He’d been left to die, helpless and robbed of his most precious possessions. Fino burned with the urge to slap Alternate, but Shade had done that for her. The bruise was apparent on Alternate’s left cheek.

Without speaking, Alternate pulled out a thin little book. He didn’t have to open it for Fino to know what it was. He turned to a page and held it up, showing the drawing of Fino injured in a bed. He said nothing, but awaited her response.

“I saw it,” she whispered. “He saved me that day Shade attacked me. He took me back to Murdoch.”

“And Shade went after you because you were eavesdropping on our meeting,” said Alternate. “You lied to me—“

“I never lied. Remember what I said that day in the stables? Everything I told you was the truth.”

Alternate didn’t budge. “But still, you tricked me. Why, Fino, of all people, did you have to work with the Preacher’s Kid? What could you possibly accomplish by doing that?”

It was pointless to keep it a secret any longer. Tonight could be her last night alive. She took a breath. “Quincy has some connections. He told me if I got the name of the bank you were going to rob, he would see about getting your name off the wanted list.”

“In other words, he knows people who can grant me a pardon?” Alternate scoffed. “Fino, it’s too late for me.”

“It’s never too late,” she insisted. She leaned forward, jangling the chains. “He—He says he can get it done.”

“I don’t believe him.”

“You can!”

“So this whole mess started because you wanted to clear my name?”

“No, it started when you wanted to go find your father.”

Alternate couldn’t seem to respond to that, looking both surprised and offended.

“What about Blush?” Fino asked. “What ever happened to finding him, to getting revenge for our parents? What, just because you believe Holloway is your ‘real’ father, suddenly getting justice for Gordy is no longer necessary?”

“That isn’t true!” Alternate shouted, and then he clamped a hand over his mouth. They both waited for a reaction from the camp, but none came. “That’s not true,” Alternate repeated in a whisper. “I still care, and I’m still looking for Blush. I’m just going about it a different way than we used to.”

Fino glared at him. “How?” But the more she thought about what he said, the more things started to make sense. Blush was an outlaw. The Black Eagles were an outlaw gang. Fino and Alternate had been looking for Bush any way they could, usually by asking around if anyone knew his description. However, the one thing they hadn’t done was ask criminals. Depending on the degree of infamy, outlaws usually knew one another.

The pieces started coming together. “You joined the Black Eagles to find Blush,” she stated.

“Holloway was just the icing on the cake,” Alternate admitted. “I figured if I went into the criminal underground, I’d have a better chance of getting close to Blush. Since I already knew the Black Eagles from years back, I sought them first. I felt it’d be easier than joining a gang as a stranger.”

“So have you found out anything?” Fino asked with eagerness.

“You don’t get it, do you?” said Alternate. He shook his head. “The reason I stopped talking to you was to protect you. I was risking my freedom and my neck, and I’m probably going to end up losing both, and soon. I couldn’t put you through that. I didn’t want to risk your life, too. And here all you can think about is whether I’ve found Blush?”

Fino winced. “S-Sorry. I’m just amazed you’ve gone to these lengths to find Blush. Didn’t you ever plan on telling me?”

“Of course,” replied Alternate, as if it should’ve been obvious. “As soon as I found him and killed him—“

“Without me?!” Fino almost jumped up. “You were going to kill Blush without me? And then just tell me about it later? We should be looking for him _together_.”

“I said I’m doing this for you, too.” Alternate placed a fist over his heart. “You’re with me every day. When I find Blush and kill him, it will be as if you’re with me.”

“It’s _not_ the same. I want to be with you in person when it happens. It would mean more to me. We stood side by side against Cavanaugh, and we fought together against the Syndicate. We protected each other. We were a team. If you still consider me your friend, then we can do it again!” She moved closer to him and chains strained against her. “I’ll be more patient. And Quincy—he said he could help us find Blush. He’s a bounty hunter. He knows about outlaws.”

Alternate fell quiet. The wind had calmed to a gentle puff. Clouds drifted in front of the moon and darkness covered the camp. Alternate stared at the lantern, the light flashing off his monocle.

“I saw Holloway talking to you earlier,” he said. “What did you tell him?” The question was demanding, suspicious, and wary.

“Don’t try changing the subject,” Fino replied. “I want you to—“

“Tell me what you said,” Alternate repeated. “You didn’t tell him I thought he was my father, did you?”

Fino brought up her bound hands to wave away his worry. “No, of course not! He asked me where you got the comb and I told him you got it out of Gordy’s basement. …And I said Gordy was dead.”

Alternate sat up a little straighter, bracing a hand on his knee. “What did he say to that?”

“He was surprised. I said you and I had been looking for the killer.”

“Did you tell him who the killer was?”

“No.”

Alternate looked relieved. “I haven’t said anything to him about it, so he didn’t know.”

“How come? You never told him you were looking for Blush?”

“I didn’t. No one else knows, not even Tony. I don’t want to blow my cover, and I didn’t think Holloway would care one way or the other that my dad was dead, or who killed him. They hated each other.”

Words wanted to leap out of Fino’s mouth. She debated with herself. The woman Holloway spoke of could easily be a different person, and not Alternate’s mother. Had it been Holloway’s belief that the young son of Gordy had been born to another woman? Based on their earlier conversation, Fino wondered if perhaps the man was beginning to doubt. Or maybe he’d been wondering all along.

She decided against it. The topic was something that could only be discussed between those two. It was none of her business, and Alternate could come to his own conclusions about what sort of person this mystery woman was.

“He’s pretty mad at you right now, isn’t he?” Fino said. She knew it was her fault, but she didn’t feel guilty. The entire gang deserved to get blasted with the Zodiac. But she hadn’t anticipated Holloway’s resentment toward Alternate. All evening she observed their interaction, and most of the time the leader paid little attention to Alternate, sometimes blatantly ignoring him. Perhaps it was better than yelling and throwing insults, which was Shade’s style.

The inner pain that etched Alternate’s countenance tugged on her heart. He looked so sad and pitiful she wanted to hug him. Almost.

“Yeah,” he said. “He’s mad. Tony seems to think he’ll forgive me, but I’m not sure. I may get demoted.” He managed a grateful smile. “But I’m glad the bounty hunter is alive. Really…I didn’t want to shoot him.”

“Just goes to show all you care about is Holloway’s approval,” Fino said with a glower. “You had a choice.”

Alternate didn’t argue about that. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Why do you care?!”

“What, I’m not allowed to? And why do you care about him so much? You came all this way to get his rifle back.”

“And to stop you.”

Alternate brought up the little book again. “I read what he wrote about you. He wrote a poem called _Blushing Red Rose_ that talked all about how smitten you are with him.”

“Th-That’s a bunch of—It doesn’t mean anything!” Quincy wrote about her? And what were these things called “poems”? Fino found herself even more inquisitive about it now. “Let me see. What are you talking about?”

Alternate pulled the book away.

“Don’t play games, Alternate! I want to know what he wrote.”

“I don’t think he wanted you to read his personal diary. I’m not reading it back to you.”

“You read it, too! Just let me see it!”

He gave her a strange look at how avid she was to get her hands on it. “You’re really into this guy. Are you in love with him?”

Fino’s cheeks had grown so hot she was grateful for the night’s chill. She could keep denying it until she was blue in the face, but it wouldn’t make a difference.

“He’s mistaken,” she said. “Yes, I like him, but it’s not the same as how I feel about you.”

Alternate seemed uncertain at first. He wrapped his hands around the book and his eyes shifted about. “I… I just wanted to make sure.”

Fino’s eyebrows shot up. Had he actually been jealous? This only did more to fuel her indignation. What part of himself had he reserved for her after spending it all on Tony? _Don’t act jealous when you’ve already decided what you want._

She gestured at the book with her chin. “What else did you steal from him?”

“Tony took a pocket watch and whatever money he had on him,” Alternate replied. He looked ashamed. “I told her not to, but she insisted on it.”

“Not surprising. She’s a thief, just like you. Looks like you two were made for each other.” Fino had been thinking bitter thoughts for days now, but hearing it in her voice like that startled her. She could almost feel the poison dripping off her tongue.

The comment cut Alternate deep. His shoulders slumped. “I never wanted to take anything from the bounty hunter. It was Tony’s idea. You have to believe me.”

“You want to sooth my worries over robbing a person? You’ve robbed a _bank_.”

Alternate took a breath and glanced down. “It’ll be worth it in the end,” he mumbled.

Fino could’ve come up with dozens of different replies, but none of them compared to the indescribable emotion that left her mute. She just could not wrap her mind around his reasoning. Fino had thought she was desperate to find Blush, but not so desperate she’d commit crimes just to gain access to his location. In her mind it wasn’t worth it to risk her life and reputation. Even for revenge Fino had to keep her pride.

“Alternate, I want you to stop this madness,” she said. “Look at us. We’re both going crazy here. There are better ways for us to do this. We’ll find Blush some other way.”

Alternate stood and took up the lantern. “Holloway isn’t planning on killing you…yet,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye on Shade. He keeps talking about how he wants to cut off your arms and legs.” He stopped and seemed to remember something. At first he dithered, glancing from Fino to the camp. “Fino, do you know if…there’s any connection between the bounty hunter and Shade?”

Fino almost wanted to keep that information a secret out of spite. He had completely snubbed her plea. But it would help his circumstances, with the possibility of putting Holloway on his side. Even after all the things she said, she still found it in herself to be sympathetic toward him.

“Quincy has been after Shade for years,” she said. “That bastard cut his mother’s legs off. If Holloway wants to be mad at someone, he should be mad at his own right-hand man.”

Alternate wasn’t shocked. “We wondered about that. So all this time it was Shade the bounty hunter really wanted.” He nodded to himself. “Don’t tell anyone I came to talk to you. Holloway will kick me out of the gang if he finds out.”

An idea must’ve shown on Fino’s face because Alternate added, “Don’t get any funny ideas. If you say anything to him, everything I’ve been doing—for the both of us—will go up in smoke. I’ll be back to talk to you again. There’s one more thing I need to tell you, but after I’ve had some time to think.”

The lantern swung as he turned to leave, rocking the circle of light, but before Fino was left in the dark she said, “If I wasn’t tied up like this I’d go over there and kick you where it counts.”

Alternate’s mouth dropped open. Then he closed it and averted his gaze, resignation in his eyes.

“But the truth is, I still love you,” she finished. “I don’t understand how I can after all that’s happened, but…I do.” Her throat swelled with emotion, and she swallowed. “I just wish things could go back to the way they were between us.”

Alternate was quiet before answering. “I’ll see you later.”

He walked back to camp, leaving Fino to stitch up the fresh tear in her heart.


	35. Chapter 35

_I still love you._

The words fluttered around in his soul like a little bird. Alternate wanted to run back, tear the ropes and chains off Fino, and hold her like he’d always wanted to. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. First of all, she might follow through with her threat to kick him between the legs. Secondly, he needed her to stay there for when the time came for him to tell her the whole truth. Then they could proceed with his plan. He’d revealed most of it just now, but there was a key piece of information that was imperative if he wanted to save this friendship, and perhaps its romantic potential.

The thought of romance made him wonder about her claims concerning the bounty hunter. In the lantern’s light he had seen the bright red blush and her eagerness to know what the poem said. She made it sound like it was just a little crush. The poem didn’t sound that way.Of course, it could be an exaggeration, as the words were rather maudlin and Alternate got the sense the bounty hunter had intended to make the poem somewhat amusing. At least it didn’t appear the man had returned her feelings. That would’ve angered Alternate. The Preacher’s Kid was much too old for her. How could Fino have fallen for someone who was probably more than ten years her senior? Alternate was surprised by his own feelings of inferiority when he thought about it. What did the bounty hunter have that he didn’t? The man was taller, that was for sure. He had rugged good looks, a strong build, and skills that went beyond being able to shoot from an absurd distance. It wasn’t fair. Alternate couldn’t be counted in the same category of manhood because he was still a teenager.

But what the Preacher’s Kid didn’t have were the memories Alternate shared with Fino, the shared experience of struggle and battle. Alternate could boast of those, but none of this was exactly a contest, was it? _I really am jealous_ , he thought, and felt ridiculous for it.

His gaze settled on Tony’s tent as he came near. He was in quite a predicament. The love for Fino he had thought dead was not dead after all. He’d shoved it into the farthest corner of his heart, hoping it would eventually become an old, faded memory he could bring out once in a while to fondly reminisce. But it hadn’t been there long enough to fade. It was still fresh and vibrant, even when he was involved with Tony. His affection for the safecracker had been unexpected. Maybe he’d been looking for a way to assuage the pain of what he had thought had been his unrequited feelings for Fino? Tony had been a ready opportunity, and it had taken little effort. They had been casting each other flirtatious glances within the first few days he had joined the gang.

Alternate recalled the little book in his hand. There was one thing he hadn’t discussed with Fino. The potential answer made him uneasy. The Preacher’s Kid had written another set of verses titled _Lady in the Air_ , describing the ethereal beauty of a woman who protected him in a moment of trouble, how she had “burst forth” from his window at night to frighten away the “dark demons” that were intent on killing him. Alternate thought the poem a little over the top in its descriptions, but the details about the woman were convoluted to where they characterized two women as if they were a single entity. One line sounded like Fino, and another would sound like someone else. But the overall mental picture looked a lot like a bullet from the Zodiac. It wasn’t a bullet Alternate had ever seen, though. To his memory there were three bullets the gun hadn’t fired yet. He narrowed the probability down to Virgo. What essence had Fino used to charge a Virgo bullet? As he turned over the possibilities in his mind, he started to believe the most easily available thing that could provide Virgo essence was Fino herself. Even so, he couldn’t be certain. She’d be firing a Virgo bullet every time she touched the gun. It must’ve had to do with prompting the weapon. Fino had never used a Virgo bullet around Alternate, but she had with the Preacher’s Kid. What did that mean? That was the part Alternate was afraid to know, but he had his suspicions.

His heart was heavy as he stopped at Tony’s tent. He turned off the lantern and was about to step through the doorway when he noticed something unusual. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness. The men had lined their horses up in a row. The horse Fino had ridden was among them, but black as it was in the dark night it was barely visible, even when a cloud managed to slip away from the moon. Shade’s stark white horse should’ve been easier to see, but as Alternate scanned the row of horses he couldn’t find it. Usually it was next to Holloway’s mount, which was tethered at one end of the row. It was absent.

_When did he leave?_ Alternate wondered. He never saw Shade take his horse and go, at least not before he went to see Fino. Alternate had waited long after everyone was asleep before he did. Shade could’ve left during that time, or while Alternate had been speaking with Fino. But if Shade had seen him talking to their prisoner, he wouldn’t have hesitated to confront Alternate about it.

But why was he gone? Shade didn’t need to be scouting. Holloway hadn’t posted sentries because they were in the middle of nowhere with little or no threat of anyone finding them.

_That’s because Shade’s not scouting,_ Alternate realized. He set his jaw and glanced back at the door to Tony’s tent. She was fast asleep, but if she awoke she would find he wasn’t beside her. He hoped she’d be perceptive enough to know he was gone for a good reason. She hadn’t known about his plan to talk to Fino, but she might figure that’s where he was.

Alternate took his lantern and picked up his saddle that lay beside the tent. He saddled his horse and quietly led the animal out of the camp. Staring out into the nighttime landscape, the moon’s light afforded only a faint view of the ground. There were no other lights in the distance in any direction. If Shade carried a lantern, which he would’ve, it would be visible, but he could be too far for the light to be seen. Alternate knew it was a slim chance he’d be able to find the outlaw, but he decided to try anyway. He wouldn’t be out long, and he would have to get back before Shade did, or else it’ll be Alternate under suspicion.

He rode out. The lantern attached to the saddle remained unlit for the time being, leaving Alternate at the mercy of the eyes of his horse. He used what stars he could around the clouds to guide him due south toward Murdoch at a slow pace. He took his time, taking in the gentle sound of crickets that filled the air. The coyotes were on the move again, their calls distant but eerie. The horse plodded along, at ease with its surroundings. Every time he rode this horse he was reminded of how Tony held the stagecoach drivers at gunpoint. In a way Alternate resented her for it. He just couldn’t get rid of the memory. He’d felt guilty and wished he’d done the smart thing and bought a horse in Murdoch before leaving on the stagecoach. But they’d been in a hurry and had little time for bartering over animals.

Things like this never used to bother him. Stealing was a simple matter and Alternate almost didn’t have a conscience at times. But somehow all that changed when he met Mingchao. Watching how she would throw herself in harm’s way to protect a friend, or to preserve an enemy’s life (something he had yet to fully grasp), changed his perception of people and the value of life. On top of that he saw the ruthless, cold-blooded nature of the Syndicate and its members, and how they would kill people as if they were worthless cockroaches. It was enough to make Alternate rethink his position and his own heart. He realized he didn’t want to be like them.

Somewhere in Alternate’s soul there had been a hidden light, almost smothered in the corruption he had cultivated over many years, and the only person who even remotely cared about him, Gordy, was all he had in the world. Pleasing Gordy meant retaining the meager warmth that gave Alternate any reason to live at all. The light in him had been like a single star in the night sky, and it had expanded ever wider after the fall of the Syndicate. What Alternate found most interesting was how this characteristic of light and dark was apparent in Holloway. He admired how the man liked to stir up mischief, primarily against the rich and powerful, but maintained empathy in his actions and a heart for the innocent. Alternate got the impression Holloway held some kind of grudge with the elite, but he didn’t know what it was. Now the leader’s attitude had changed. Innocent or guilty, Holloway would cut them down during the robbery. Alternate wanted to know why. Why had Holloway decided to snuff out his light of humanity?

He had been traveling for a half-hour. Alternate stopped his horse to take stock of his surroundings. The crickets chirred in the brush around him. A small, dark shape darted between the bushes, some animal Alternate couldn’t make out. He glanced up, saw the moon was unobscured at the moment, and estimated the time between one and two o’clock in the morning. The desert was sheathed in a feeble glow. Alternate encouraged his horse further until they reached a low-lying ridge that acted somewhat as an overlook. There was nothing out of the ordinary on the plain before him.

He began to consider returning to the camp when he took one more glance around and saw something gleaming below the ridge to his right. It was about fifty feet away. Alternate dismounted, his hand going for the revolver at his hip. Taking his horse’s reins he slipped quietly toward the source of light that lay below the ridge. He stopped and ground hitched his horse before crossing the remaining distance that put him just above the light. He heard two voices. Alternate went to his knees and crawled toward the ledge, and then eased onto his stomach to stay out of sight. He peered down the slope.

Shade sat on a chunk of stone with a lantern at his feet. The bells on his trousers tinkled as he shifted a leg over his knee. The end of a cigarette hanging from his mouth flared as he took a long drag. Then he tapped the ashes off and handed the stick to another man who sat across from him. The man leaned against the flat side of another stone that had probably broken off the ridge ages ago. He was short and lean with dark hair tied back in a long queue. His clothes were remarkably clean for one who probably traveled quite a ways to get out here. He wasn’t from the gang, and he wasn’t the outside connection. Alternate knew what _that_ person looked like.

“Should’ve offed the brat when I had the chance,” Shade grumbled. “But had I done it in secret, Holloway would’ve known it was me.”

“You’ll get another chance,” the other man said. He smiled, and the way his lips pulled back made him look like a grinning rat. “Doesn’t sound like Holloway needs her anymore anyway.” He sucked on the cigarette, blew the smoke, and handed the stick back to Shade.

“Just wish I knew how that gun of hers worked,” said Shade. “We couldn’t figure it out. Maybe there is still some use in keeping her alive.”

Alternate felt like someone dropped a bag of bricks on his back. That the gang might become interested in the Zodiac was something he dreaded. He did _not_ want another fight over that gun.

“Maybe,” the other man said with a nod.

“If we could figure that gun out, then no one could stop us,” Shade said.

_I doubt you’d have the balls to burn your hand for the insignia,_ Alternate thought with a scowl. _And the gun wouldn’t listen to you anyway, not with your evil heart._

The rat grinned again. “Once Holloway’s out of the picture, it should be easy.”

Shade shook his head. “Not just Holloway. I have a few little bugs I need to squash after I’ve smeared his guts on the floor.”

“Couldn’t convince him, eh?”

“He’s not interested in that sort of thing. The man’s got the strangest moral compass I’ve ever seen in someone who calls himself a crook. He harbors an ill will toward rich folk like cattlemen for sheep herders.”

“Well, can’t get money from a poor man.”

“I think it has little to do with money.”

“How so?”

Shade went quiet as he drew on the cigarette. He exhaled the smoke and watched it thoughtfully as it dissipated. “I don’t know. Just once he told me the wealthy are the source of corruption in society, and the reason the world suffers. Not because of men like you and me.”

The rat chuckled. “Sounds to me like he understands the world better than most. It’ll be a shame to see him go.”

Shade said nothing to that. He flicked the cigarette down and ground out the ashes. He stood, took up his lantern, and said, “Remember to tell the Captain what I told you. With the girl in our hands, there shouldn’t be any more interruptions. But don’t say anything about the girl’s gun. I don’t want to spook ‘im.”

“Right,” the other man replied. He stood and headed back to his horse. Shade’s white stallion stood next to it.

Alternate didn’t stay to see the man leave.

 

* * *

 

The following morning, Alternate went straight for Holloway’s tent. He didn’t sleep a wink that night, anxious as he was to talk to Holloway.

The gang was packing up again to return to the campsite at the spring, but the going was slow considering many men were still injured and not well enough to move much. Perhaps a little more than half the gang would be able to go to the bank, but there were still two more days to recover. The ones most maimed were those who took direct hits from the Zodiac, but they numbered only a few. Their force should be sufficient to succeed.

Shade’s mount had returned to its place in the line of horses. Alternate had managed to return before he did, but he’d heard the man coming back into camp. The conservation from the night before left Alternate on edge. He had come to realize Shade wanted him dead, and would kill him after the outlaw had done away with Holloway. He also suspected Shade would kill Tony, and maybe anyone else who opposed him.

Alternate didn’t announce his arrival as he shoved aside the door flap. “Holloway! I need to talk—“

Shade stood together with Holloway. They looked as if Alternate had interrupted their conversation, but Holloway looked more annoyed than his right-hand man. He glared at Alternate as he tied a thin rope around a blanket he’d just rolled up. He gave the final knot a hard jerk to tighten it.

“I—I didn’t know you had company,” Alternate said. His blood ran cold as he glanced at Shade. The outlaw gave him a disinterested stare, betraying nothing.

“You should be helping the others get ready,” Holloway said to Alternate. He words were cold. “We need to combine our manpower since so many are weak, especially Tony. She can’t use her right arm.”

“She’s ready,” Alternate replied. “I helped her—“

“Then get back to work,” Holloway commanded. He turned away to continue packing.

“The boss and I were just discussing your Indian friend,” Shade said. “Seems she’ll be allowed to live after all. We’re quite interested in her gun.” A sly smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

Alternate kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t going to let on how much he knew about the Zodiac. If anyone asked, he’d deny any knowledge.

Shade didn’t appear to be leaving any time soon, so Alternate had no choice but to depart. He stomped out and cursed the world.

Tony was waiting for him when he got back. She was sitting on a blanket bundle with her saddle beside her. Her right arm was wrapped in a sling, and across her lap lay the Lead Messenger. She looked at him curiously.

“Were you talking with Holloway?” she asked.

Alternate motioned for her to stand and follow him. With the rifle in hand, Tony went along as they stood some distance out of earshot of the men. He noticed Fino over by the wagon, still chained to its wheel. Earlier he’d snuck her some food, but didn’t stay to talk. The other men had left her alone for the most part.

“Shade went out last night,” Alternate began, keeping Tony close so he could whisper. “He met with someone I think may have been a middleman for the outside connection.”

“A middleman?” Tony asked, surprised. “He’s never done that before.”

“Maybe he got tired of waiting and wondered if we had bailed.” It seemed to be a sign of a lack of trust. The outside connection might be becoming apprehensive about his partnership with the gang. That man didn’t always casually show his face to everyone, but only those he knew he could count on.

“I followed Shade and listened to their conversation,” said Alternate. “He plans on killing Holloway.”

Tony covered her mouth with her hand in shock. “Is that why you went to talk to him?”

“I couldn’t. Shade was in there.”

“We _have_ to tell Holloway,” Tony said, fear flickering in her eyes. “We can’t let Shade get away with this.”

“I know that. It’s just… I need to get Holloway alone.” He looked back at Fino. She crouched on the ground miserably, glowering at any man who dared to pass too close. “And I need to get the Zodiac back. Tonight, when everyone’s asleep, I’m taking it.”

Tony was astonished. “But Holloway has it. You’d steal it back from him? Why?”

“Shade wants to figure out how it works, and he probably convinced Holloway they could use the gun to their advantage.”

“For the robbery?”

“I don’t know.” _Certainly not for a job in the near future, since the gang isn’t going to be around anymore. Holloway knows that, so why…?_ They would have but two days to figure out the gun, and the only way they could do that would be to—

“Oh, God,” he breathed. “Shade’s going to torture Fino.”

Tony’s eyes went wide. “What makes you think that?”

“They want to use the gun on the bank.”

“But dynamite is just as effective. We don’t need her gun. Besides, we have everything planned out—“

“But that’s what he’s going to do!” Terror gripped Alternate. He remembered Delora’s amputated legs. Shade would do as he said and reduce Fino to a stump. It made Alternate sick at the thought of her crippled like that. “I’ll never forgive myself if he gets his hands on her. I can’t let him!” He grasped Tony’s shoulders, being mindful of the injured one. “Listen, tonight I’m going to set Fino free. I’ll need her help when Holloway goes to meet the outside connection.”

“But she’ll try to stop us again,” Tony said. “She’ll just—“

“No. I need to tell Fino the whole truth, and once I do, she’ll understand. But the robbery needs to happen. Everything hinges on that.”

“What are you talking about, the truth?”

Shade left Holloway’s tent and marched out toward the wagon filled with boxes of dynamite. Fino huddled under the wagon and tried to stay out his sight. Shade barked something about food to one of the men. They were getting low on rations. Fino’s interruption had messed up their planning over how long their food would last. Some men would go out hunting later, but in this desolate land there wouldn’t be much to find aside from small game. Someone may even be sent back to Murdoch to get enough food to get them through the robbery.

“I’m freeing her tonight,” Alternate repeated as he watched Shade. “I could’ve told her everything from the beginning and none of this would’ve happened, but it was because I didn’t trust her to stick with the plan. Now I _will_ trust her.”

Tony was confused, but couldn’t seem to find what to say to that. “Then let me do it. Let me free her.”

Alternate looked at her in surprise. “What? No!”

“Nate, you’ll be the first person they suspect when they find her gone. Shade’ll be the first person to point a finger at you, and Holloway will believe it.”

“You don’t think they’d suspect you, too?”

“Of course they might, but I’d have a better chance at leniency than you. I’ve been with Holloway for a long time and he’ll be reluctant to give me the boot.” Tony smiled confidently.

Alternate clenched his teeth as he considered it. But what could she tell them as a reason for letting their prisoner go? If she had to lie, she couldn’t just say she felt sorry for Fino. She was supposed to believe Fino would return to stop them. It wouldn’t make sense to anyone.

“No, I have to do it,” Alternate said. “I’m not putting you in that position. If anyone’s going to get blamed for it, I want it to be me.”

“You’re being absolutely daft, Nate!” said Tony. “How will you defend yourself? What if Holloway kicks you out of the gang?”

Across the camp, Holloway was dismantling his tent with the help of another man. Alternate wished he could be the one helping.

“I’ll figure it out when comes down to that,” he said.

Tony frowned but relented. “I still think you should let me do it…”

Alternate appreciated her offer. He trusted she knew not to say a word about his plan, or anything about Fino’s gun. He would have to act fast, and before Shade got ahold of Fino.


	36. Chapter 36

Tony had been lost in thought all the way back to the spring. She kept glancing between Fino in the wagon and Alternate riding just ahead of her. A few days ago she read through the bounty hunter’s book and gained a little insight into Fino. The Indian girl was apparently very much in love with Alternate, but at the same time she was infatuated with the Preacher’s Kid. Tony felt sorry for her. Things would not likely end the way the girl hoped. There was little chance Alternate would return to Fino’s village, as Tony was certain he would remain with her and the Black Eagles.

It bothered her, however, that Alternate had insisted on freeing Fino in the belief she would help against Shade. Wasn’t Tony enough? Holloway was just as important to her, but Fino held no such loyalty. Why would she care to help? And what was this talk about the “whole truth”? Alternate had kept a secret when she thought he was comfortable enough to share anything with her, and that hurt.

Tony had been developing a secret of her own. She would never let Alternate be the one to free Fino. He’d get kicked out of the gang in seconds, and Holloway wouldn’t be gentle about it. It would break Alternate’s heart so see the man he thought to be his father turn his back on him. It was hard to believe he’d be willing to risk that. Tony wanted to preserve his chances of success.

The procession made it back to the spring by the afternoon and rested by the water, letting their horses drink. They wouldn’t be setting up the entire camp since they would be heading out the day after tomorrow. After they’d rested, the men started helping each other set up their shelters.

Holloway went around to each man, inquiring of their condition, but he skipped Alternate and went for Tony. The agitation that had tightened his features all day seemed to have dissipated.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, coming to stand before her. She had removed her bedroll, supplies, and saddle from her horse and sat resting against the saddle on the ground. Her wide-brimmed hat was pushed back so she could look up at his tall figure.

“Better, but it still burns,” she replied.

“Give it another day,” Holloway suggested.

As he was about to walk away, Tony said, “Holloway, I think Nate might have something important to say to you.”

The leader stopped and became peeved again. “There’s not much he can do at this point,” he said.

“You’re not seriously considering demoting him, are you?” Tony asked with worry. If that happened, Alternate had no hope of ever rising through the ranks again. “He tried to do what he could about the bounty hunter, and he can’t control Fino.”

Holloway took a breath. “I gave him a task, and he didn’t complete it—“

“But he still stopped the bounty hunter. The Preacher’s Kid won’t be bothering us for a while.”

Holloway frowned at her for the interruption. Even though he regarded her like family, she still had to remember her place in the gang’s hierarchy, especially in the presence of other members. In private she was free to talk to him with familiarity, but not here.

“Nate’s trying to do the best he can,” Tony said before he could respond. “He went all that way just to kill the Preacher’s Kid. I thought the bounty hunter was dead, too. I really think you should hear him out.”

Holloway put his hands on his hips and stared out over the men. Alternate was somewhere out of sight, probably relieving himself behind a rock. The other men had very little shame and could care less about decency, and would thus piss anywhere they pleased as long as it wasn’t on anyone’s foot. Holloway was a stickler for cleanliness and demanded that the men urinate and defecate in a designated spot away from their living quarters. Alternate, however, seemed shyer than most and preferred to do his business in private. Besides, Tony noticed he was liable to compare appendages if another man was beside him.

“Do you know what he has to say?” Holloway asked, his expression softening.

Tony was surprised by the question. Why was he asking her? “I think _he_ should tell you.”

Holloway’s brow creased as he looked out over the camp again. Tony found his behavior a little unusual. He seemed suddenly anxious, as if eager to find Alternate. Earlier he hadn’t wanted anything to do with their master planner.

“I will give him a little time,” he assented, and then strode away with his gaze skimming over the camp.

The day wore on uneventfully. Later another wagon rolled in, bringing food and other supplies. Two of the men had been sent to Murdoch to retrieve the necessities that would last them until after the robbery. The men were ecstatic to find that they had purchased whole crates of whiskey, which displeased their leader. But what with all the disappointment and gloom hanging over the men’s heads recently, Holloway decided it wouldn’t hurt to give them a little boost for their spirits. The only plans they had for the next day was rest for their injuries. Holloway wanted both his men’s bodies and spirits ready when they headed for Murdoch again.

Fino had crawled under the dynamite wagon to protect herself from the direct sun. Probably not the safest place to put her, but the men figured it wouldn’t be a loss if the wagon blew and took her with it. At least no one bothered her. Some may have forgotten she was there, but Tony never lost sight of her. Alternate gave Fino some food earlier, since now Holloway was permitting it. Fino always looked as if she wanted to say something to her friend, but he never stayed long enough for her to get a few words out. Alternate never appeared to say anything and would walk away quickly.

Benson came and checked Tony’s wound. Having only been a day or so since the incident, the burn wasn’t much better, but he gave her a good prognosis and said there might be a scar. Alternate had said it wasn’t unusual. He had a small scar on his chest from a bullet fired from the Zodiac’s twin gun, but it had collided with a coin he’d had stored in his shirt. A vengeful woman had shot him when she managed to get her hands on the gun.

Before the sun set the men were breaking out the whiskey and started a large fire in the center of the camp. They gathered around and sat in the waning twilight, eating and drinking and laughing. Even Holloway was having a drink, which was out of character for him since he rarely indulged in alcohol. He preferred to keep his wits about him. The only person Tony noticed abstaining was Shade, and this troubled her. Worse yet he had pulled out a large knife and was casually sharpening the blade while conversing with another man at the fireside.

The warmth from the fire pulsed over Tony. Alternate came and plopped down on the ground next to her, a half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. The men passed the bottles around, so she wasn’t sure how much he’d already had. When she watched him take a swig, she got an idea. He might get mad at her later, but…

She snuggled against him, grabbed the bottle from his hand, and took a drink. He gawked at her. When she handed the bottle back, he looked at it and seemed to contemplate if he should take another drink on the same spot where her lips had touched. After all this time, they had never kissed, and Tony thought his embarrassment was cute.

Alternate looked over at Holloway who was standing on the outskirts of the group talking with Benson. “Has he been acting strange to you?” he asked, referring to the leader.

“Whatever do you mean?” Tony said.

“A few times it looked like he wanted to say something to me, but then he walked away. He doesn’t seem to be as mad at me as before…”

“Well, I did mention you wanted to talk to him about something important.” Since he hadn’t taken another drink from the bottle, Tony swiped it from him and downed another—only she didn’t drink any. She pretended to swallow and nudged the whiskey in Alternate’s direction. “Here, have some more.”

Alternate’s gaze was fixed on Holloway when he took the bottle. “What did he say about that?”

“That he would allow you some time to talk to him.” She knew what he might be thinking. Holloway had had all day to open the opportunity and hadn’t. But it sounded like their leader was conflicted. “I’m sure he’s just waiting for the right opportunity. He’s been a little busy today, too.”

Alternate took another drink of whiskey, a long one by Tony’s estimation.

“Why don’t you approach him?” Tony asked. “Maybe that’s what he wants?”

Alternate muttered something under his breath and brought the bottle back to his lips.

“But just relax,” Tony said, wrapping her arm around him. “Take it easy tonight.”

Alternate’s eyes wandered over toward Fino. The Indian girl lay under the wagon a ways from the gang, her back turned, and probably sleeping.

“She’ll be fine,” Tony assured him. She found it odd that he hadn’t reciprocated her affections. She’d have to try harder than usual.

“Tonight’s the night,” Alternate said.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t long before their bottle was finished and Tony chucked it aside. Another full bottle was passed to them and Tony made sure her favorite man got the first swig. She commenced a flirtatious battle plan during which Alternate’s walls were crumbling. It wasn’t a coincidence that his defenses fell the more he drank.

The men began to sing and dance, talking about how the robbery would be successful and what they would spend their fortunes on. Some had already passed out on the ground. Those who had a higher tolerance caroused well into the night. Alternate, however, was not one of those men. The safecracker began to realize his tolerance for alcohol was minimal, and within an hour his tongue was loosening.

“I just wanna to talk to my dad,” Alternate mumbled as he stared at the fire. His body shook once on a stifled sob. “Just wanna to talk to him...”

Tony wasn’t sure which “dad” he was referring to, so she didn’t know how to respond. “Everything’s going to be okay, Nate,” she cooed.

“No.” Alternate gestured with his nearly empty bottle toward Holloway who presided over the party with calm. The leader hadn’t drank much, but seemed to be enjoying himself nonetheless. “He hates me. He’ll never believe I’m his son.”

“You haven’t even talked to him yet. He _wants_ to talk to you.” _Of course, you can’t talk to him now when you’re drunk._

“You’re so good to me, Tony,” Alternate said as his arm squeezed around her shoulders. “I wish we had found each other sooner.” His breath reeked of alcohol as the words poured over her.

Tony glanced over to where Fino slept under the wagon. How she could sleep through this ruckus was anyone’s guess.

“But the timing was right,” Tony said.

Someone passed another full bottle and Tony went to work opening it. It wouldn’t be long before Alternate couldn’t handle any more. But once he was out, she’d have to wait for everyone else to pass out before she could make her move.

Alternate said very little after that. He seemed content to brood and stare at Holloway. The leader would notice him every so often, but eye contact was brief. Tony believed Holloway was still nervous about something. It didn’t make sense to her. What was the big deal?

Of the twenty-five members, only about five people remained to enjoy their drinks, and those were beginning to lose steam. Tony counted herself among them, but since she hadn’t drank at all, she was really just sleepy. Alternate was leaning against her. Holloway had retired to his tent, and Shade did the same.

Before Alternate could become too woozy to stand, Tony prompted him to his feet and tried to steady him on her good left side. His feet dragged, but his tent wasn’t far. Once she got him inside, she eased him down onto the blankets and covered him. Now came the wait.

Tony dozed beside him. When she awoke, she peeked outside and found the fire had died down. The men who had held out longer than the others had either gone back to their shelters to sleep it off, or passed out on the ground, unheeding of the encroaching cold.

She listened. Only snoring issued from the camp. No guards had been posted, since the gang had nothing to fear now that the bounty hunter was incapacitated and Fino was in their custody, so it reasoned they didn’t need any night guards. But it still seemed foolish to Tony to decide to leave the gang vulnerable.

Tony made certain the blanket was tucked around Alternate before leaving, and then set out for Holloway’s tent. His reaction, should he find out what she did, was uncertain. He may give a slap on the wrist, or he may “ground” her, meaning she wouldn’t be allowed to participate in a few heists. He couldn’t demote her because no one else could crack safes, so considering that, she was confident he wouldn’t kick her out of the gang.

With nary a sound, she undid the ties holding the tent door closed and entered Holloway’s lair. He was asleep, and judging by his breathing, in deep sleep. He hadn’t unpacked much of his things, and so the tent was roomy. He slept in the middle of the floor, a blanket pulled up to his neck, his head resting on a saddle. Tony had learned many things about him over the years, and knew he wasn’t a light sleeper. It was a trait that usually worried her, as it was easy for someone to sneak up on him, but tonight she was thankful.

Two sacks were on the floor on the other side of the saddle. With her good arm, Tony rummaged through one and came up empty. She went for the second and again found nothing. Holloway didn’t carry a lot with him. He had few real belongings, indicating his desire to travel light, but if Fino’s gun was in his possession then it should be somewhere in the room.

Tony looked to the saddle. The saddle bags were draped across its center, so when she lifted the flap on the bag on the opposite side of Holloway’s head, he stirred. She retracted her hand and waited. The man did a little squirming before settling down again. He breathed a few words out of some dream he was having. Tony peered over to see him.

“V…Ve…nus,” he mumbled.

Had she heard correctly? _Venus, as in the goddess of love?_ What in the world was he dreaming about anyway? Holloway could be a man of many mysteries, but this was one mystery Tony didn’t want to know.

She went for the saddle bag again and found what she came for. The gun was hidden deep inside, crowded by other items, and among the crowd was the comb. Alternate had lamented its loss as if he would never get it back. To Holloway it should’ve been a simple trinket, and being made of precious metal and pearls wouldn’t have mattered much to him. It had belonged to his enemy. If anything, he should’ve tossed it in the bonfire tonight to watch it melt. But perhaps he had refrained after seeing how much Alternate valued it.

Tony decided to leave the comb in the bag. If anyone found Alternate with the comb again, it would be too easy assume he had taken the Zodiac and freed Fino.

After securing the door, she went back to her shelter to retrieve the little book and pocket watch, and then grabbed the Lead Messenger out of Alternate’s tent. He was still dead asleep and hadn’t moved. She bit her lip as she gazed at him. _Please, forgive me, Nate. I promise I won’t ever do that to you again, but I’m doing this for your sake._

She stepped out into the night.

 

* * *

 

Fino had been dreaming of home. She danced at the big gathering of tribes, the bells on her dress jingling with her movements as she hopped and twirled. The shells stitched into her shirt clacked. The boots she had left unfinished back at her village were complete, the tiny beads glittering in the sun high overhead. Her spirit exuded joy, and she felt someone was watching her. She paused and caught sight of a man standing some distance away.

Alternate? When had he returned? He looked exactly as she remembered him, wearing the buckskin clothes she had so lovingly sewn together. He smiled at her, and her heart ached for him to come near. Then the image flickered and shifted, and standing in his place was Quincy, giving that grin that would always make Fino’s heart skip. He looked well, as if he’d never been shot. She wanted to run to him and wrap her arms around him.

Fino opened her eyes. Her blanket had fallen open to allow in the cold. Her bound arms and legs cramped so badly she let out a low moan as she tried to stretch. On her back she stared up at the wooden bottom of the wagon, groggy mind clearing.

 _I can’t find solace anywhere_ , she thought. It was all so idiotic that she would desire the love of one of these two men, as if it were some kind of validation of her person. When she was younger she would’ve easily cast it off as “boy trouble.” She was above that, and didn’t need to feel loved by a man. Never did she think these desires would hit her like an iron horse at full speed.

Fino shut her eyes and hoped for sleep. The bells came again. Thinking it only an echo of the dream, she didn’t react, but the bells came in a rhythm and then stopped. Her eyes snapped open and she turned. A pair of legs stood in front of the wagon, the glow of a lantern above them.

“A…Alternate?” she whispered. A little joy coursed through her. “Alternate, is that you?”

The figure bent down. Teeth gleaming in a shark-like grin, Shade gazed back at her.

Fino went to scramble away. Shade’s hand shot out and latched onto her cape, dragging her out from the under the wagon. She kicked and squirmed, but his hold was unyielding. He yanked her up and then tossed her down again, knocking the air from her lungs.

“Time to get to work,” Shade said. He sounded cheerful as he unlocked the chain’s padlock that bound her to the wagon wheel. “With everyone in a stupor, we shouldn’t be disturbed.”

Once free, Fino got to her bound hands and knees and made a lame effort to crawl, but Shade just laughed. He shoved a foot against her butt and made her pant her face into the dirt. He reached down and heaved her up by the pigtails, which elicited a howl from Fino as pain jolted over her skull and down her neck.

Shade flipped her over, slamming her back down again. He straddled her and his fingers pried her mouth open. A thick wad of cloth was stuffed between her teeth, jammed so far in it was making her gag. He proceeded to tie another rag around her mouth to keep her from spitting the cloth out. Fino tried to bite to no avail. Shade handled her like an expert, as if he’d done this many times before.

“The men may be out, but even your screams might wake them up,” Shade mumbled.

With the lantern in hand, he used her hair to drag her. The more Fino fought, the worse it hurt. Her muffled cries wouldn’t reach anyone’s ears. She knew that, and yet she kept fighting. Shade wasn’t going to do what he wanted without having to work for it.

The outlaw hauled her through the darkness beyond the camp, and then stopped and slid Fino over something hard. The lantern was lowered to the ground to reveal the wood beneath her. Planks had been constructed to form a sort of legless tabletop.

Light flashed in the glow of the lantern, and Shade came near with a large knife. Suddenly Fino was seeing Cavanaugh again, the bloodthirsty woman creeping forward with a knife aimed at Fino’s eye. Her heart stopped. Cavanaugh’s face merged with Shade’s.

The ropes came loose around her arms and legs, but before Fino realized this, Shade had one of her arms pinned to the side. He bound her wrist to a stake driven into the ground, and then went for the other. Soon he had all four limbs tied, leaving her spread-eagle on the planks.

Fino’s chest heaved in terror. She knew what was coming. Shade set aside the knife and went for a bag that had been waiting, one that looked like the kind of bag a doctor would carry. Opening it, he fished out a roll of cloth and spread it open, showing an assortment of metal tools.

“Holloway is very interested in your gun,” Shade explained. He picked up one of the utensils and examined it. It had a razor edge, and he tested it with his thumb. “He thinks it can be of use to us.”

 _My gun?_ Fino thought. Had Holloway ordered this?

“My job is to make you cough up the information needed to use the gun,” Shade said. He picked up another tool and tested the edge. “If you just tell me what you know, then I won’t have to cut you up.” He looked at her, awaiting her answer.

Fino’s jaw clamped over the wad of cloth. No. Not this again. She should’ve figured this would happen, but she thought the threat had ended with the Syndicate.

But he wasn’t going to kill her, at least not right away. If he did, he’d never get the information.

She refused by glaring at him with defiance.

Shade smiled. “Then I guess you won’t need your arms.”

The knife flashed again, slicing through Fino’s cape. Shade threw it aside and cut the left shoulder strap of her dress, exposing the bare flesh. No matter how hard she pulled against her bonds, she couldn’t budge. There was a sharp sting, and warm blood trickled into the crevice of her armpit.

“You know, Holloway really didn’t give me enough time to do this,” Shade complained, drawing the knife away. “I like to take my time with these things. It’s best to let the memories slowly burn into the souls of my subjects.” When Fino groaned at the pain, he clicked his tongue. “You make my job harder if you get worked up. It’s not like I’m going to let you bleed out. When I’m done, I’ll bleach the bones and send them to one of those big city academics in the east. With an incomplete skeleton, and you being an Indian, they’ll want ‘em cheap, but I know how to talk up the price. Those book-eating goons will study anything.”

Horror came at Fino like a furious bison bull. Is that what had happened to Delora’s legs? If Fino’s body was incomplete at death, she may never make it into the afterlife to see her parents. It was her people’s belief that a complete body made it easier to get to the afterlife. Otherwise, her afterlife soul would wander the earth as a homeless ghost, forever seeking the path that leads to the land of the dead where her ancestors waited. Fino decided then that for the first time in her life, she’d met someone more evil than Blush.

“Well, then,” said Shade, “would you like to talk now?”

Fino narrowed her eyes and growled.

“Suit yourself.”

He angled the knife over her shoulder and made a short, clean cut. Fino gasped.

A hard impact caused Shade to jerk to the side.

Fino’s mind was still reeling from the pain of the cut and it took her a moment to realize the outlaw had gone down. He lay on the ground unmoving, the metal tool knocked from his fingers.

Tony held the barrel of the Lead Messenger in her hands as she stood over him. The stock of the rifle hovered over the outlaw’s head with the expectation that he might rise, but he didn’t. Dropping the rifle, the safecracker fell to her knees and clutched at her burned arm. The arm sling hung empty around her neck, and she breathed hard.

Fino gurgled through the gag and pulled against her bonds. As Tony took the big knife and cut away the ropes, Fino whipped her arms and legs up and crawled off the planks. She tore off the gag and spat out the wad, gasping for air. Her hand pressed on the cuts at her shoulder and blood leaked out between her fingers.

“I came as fast as I could,” Tony said when she caught her breath. “When I saw you gone, I knew he had taken you, but I didn’t know where.” She tried gingerly to replace her arm in the sling and cringed at the movement.

“You saved me,” Fino said. She stood for the first time in nearly two days and felt unsteady on her feet. Her muscles protested. “He was going to…” She took a few breaths as she grappled with the thought. “He was going to torture me.”

“Nate knew he would. So he—“

“Then why didn’t _he_ come?”

Tony was taken aback by her caustic tone. “He wanted to. He was going to come free you tonight, but I couldn’t let him risk that. If he did, everyone would know he did it.”

“And how is _this_ going to be any different?” Fino shot back. She felt the cuts as the blood dribbled down her dress. They might need to be stitched. If she could get Hellfire back and get into the saddlebags, she could access her medicine pack.

“I have an alibi for him,” Tony explained. She picked up the rifle and stood. When she walked toward her, Fino stepped back.

“What’s your plan, anyway?” Fino demanded warily. “Why does Alternate want me free?”

The little book, the pocket watch, and the rifle were tossed to the ground in front of her. “Nate needs you,” the safecracker said. “He says Shade is going to kill Holloway. Shade’s working with someone we call the outside connection, and Nate wants to be there when Holloway meets with this man.”

“Give me one good reason why I should care,” Fino returned in a hard voice.

This remark was the last straw for Tony. She became red in the face and balled her fists at her sides, probably to keep from reaching out and strangling Fino.

“Because he trusts that you’ll help him!” Tony almost shouted. “He said he wants to tell you the whole truth. But if you would rather walk away and never know it, then so be it!” She reached behind her, pulled the Zodiac from her belt, and chucked it on the other items.

Fino looked at the gun. She couldn’t fathom what “truth” Alternate was talking about. Didn’t he already tell her everything the previous night? “So you’re setting me to free to follow you to this meeting?”

“Yes,” said Tony. Her anger had subsided somewhat, but her fists remained.

Fino checked her wounds again. They weren’t too deep. “When will this happen?”

“After the robbery.”

“You expect me to just let you do it?”

“Do you trust Nate?”

Fino hesitated. “Y…Yes.”

“Then yes, I expect you to let us. If we don’t, we won’t meet the outside connection. He’s expecting a payoff for helping supply us.”

 _He trusts me_. Why was that the most refreshing thing she’d heard in weeks? Alternate had treated her like an outsider—no, he didn’t even treat her like a friend. There were days when it seemed they had never met in the first place. He had become a stranger to her. But now, he trusted her again. That trust she had fought so hard to get back, only to give up and believe it dead and gone.

“I… I’ll do it,” she said. “I don’t understand why he wants it, but if he trusts me, then…I’ll trust him, too.”

Tony was relieved. “Fino, I don’t really understand it, either. I don’t blame you for being skeptical." She glanced down at Shade. “I’d love to stay and talk more about this, but he could wake up at any second.”

Fino knew she couldn’t delay, even though there were hundreds of questions left to ask. Why hadn’t Holloway been notified of Shade’s treachery, and why was it so important that she be there to help Alternate stop him? What was this “truth” he wanted to tell her?

They hurried back to camp and saddled Hellfire. The place was silent save for a few loud snores. Earlier Fino had seen the men partying and drinking, but when she saw Tony sidled up against Alternate, she turned away and tried to block out the noise. Now, however, she was too tired to be jealous, and since Tony had rescued her it didn’t feel right to be mad at her.

As Fino put a sore foot into the stirrup, she said, “Where is Alternate?” He couldn’t possibly be sleeping knowing she was going to be tortured by Shade.

Tony looked sheepish. “W-Well, I had to find a way to keep him down…”

Fino lifted an eyebrow. “You got him drunk?”

“He’ll be okay. He’s sleeping it off right now.”

Tony must’ve held some amazing power of her own to keep Alternate from his goal. Fino wished she had that kind of ability. Maybe she had a thing or two to learn from the safecracker.

Fino mounted and thanked Tony one last time before heading out, her heart and mind crowded with thoughts and emotions as numerous as the stars in the sky.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for readers: Did this chapter make sense? Meaning, did it seem reasonable for Fino to agree to help Alternate against the outside connection? Sometimes when I reread this chapter, I wasn’t entirely sure.
> 
> On another note, it didn’t occur to me until recently that a hit from one of the Eto Guns might not leave a burn. A bullet can knock people around and even break bones (Alternate’s ribs in Volume 7, although the bullet hit a coin in his shirt), but I don’t remember anyone getting burned. Yet it kind of doesn’t make sense when a hit from Mingchao’s horse bullet was hot enough to relight the fuse on a stick of dynamite (saving Coronet in Volume 5). So I don’t understand why people can’t get burned, too. I guess this contradiction might be in Blush’s favor since he was hit in the face. We wouldn’t want Blush to break his face, now would we? ~~Yes.~~
> 
> I’ll just consider this as some kind of headcanon.


	37. Chapter 37

The commotion outside woke Alternate. He opened his eyes—and then squeezed them shut again. His head was throbbing and his mouth was dry like a desert. He tried to coax his mouth to produce saliva, but nothing came. When he tried to sit up, the headache grew more intense, sending him back down to his blankets. Clasping a hand over his eyes, his other hand fumbled around to find his monocle he had taken off sometime during the night. His fingers found the glass piece and replaced it over his left eye. He dared to open his eyes once more and found daylight filtering through the canvas of his tent.

_Daylight?!_

Alternate shot up from his bed, and nearly collapsed. His stomach heaved, but he placed a firm hand over his mouth. He refused to vomit, so he stood there on unsteady legs and waited for the nausea to pass for the moment. How much had he drank last night? Apparently enough to make him pass out. He had a fuzzy memory of Tony helping him back to his tent. After that, he had no memory.

Through the hangover’s onslaught, Alternate tried to think. He wiped his hands over his face and combed fingers through his hair. He was a mess. Last night he was supposed to free Fino, but that never happened. He had allowed himself to get drunk and wallow in self-pity, and somehow he had forgotten about Fino—and that Shade was going to torture her.

Nausea assaulted him again. Fino could be lying in pieces right now. Was that the source of the commotion outside?

As he went to take a step, he realized something was wrong with his trousers. He only just now noticed the draft, and saw his trousers were open. He hastily buttoned them, thinking last night he must’ve went to relieve himself and forgot to close his trousers. But when he glanced down, he let out a yelp. Tony was lying on the blankets, having slept there beside him. She jolted awake.

“Nate?” she said. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “What’s wrong?” Fully dressed save for her boots, her hair was a wreck, and she blinked sleepily as she looked at him. “What’s going on outside?”

Alternate pointed a trembling finger at her. “Wh-What are you d-doing in my tent?”

“I slept here last night, silly,” she replied. “Don’t you remember?”

“No!”

“Well, I did. Say, we should find out what’s going on outside—Are you okay? You look sick.”

Alternate doubled over and braced his hands on his knees, trying to gain some control of his hangover. He suppressed another wave of nausea.

“I drank too much last night,” he croaked.

Tony was quick to hand him a canteen of water. He took a few sips to ease the thirst.

“I know you did,” she said. “I had to take you to bed.”

“To b-bed?!”

“Yes. You could hardly walk.”

It was difficult to glare at her with the headache threatening to crack his eyes open and make them bleed out of their sockets.

“Why…? Why did you let me do that? I was supposed to free Fino last night!”

Tony rose from the blankets and gently grabbed his arm. “I think we should see what’s happening outside.”

The men were crowded around at the far end of camp near Holloway’s shelter. Ripples of conversation coursed through the group as the men watched Benson treat a bloody wound on the side of Shade’s head. Rivulets of blood had dripped onto Shade’s white shirt. The bleeding had been stopped and Benson was already going to work cleaning up the excess. Shade sat on a stone while the doctor knelt and treated the wound.

Holloway looked more displeased than ever. He stood over the men on the rocky platform, his arms folded over his broad chest and deep lines cutting into his forehead from the scowl he wore. He was tall and imposing in his long duster. When he saw Alternate and Tony shuffling toward the crowd, his upper lip trembled into a snarl.

With her own injured arm in the sling, Tony guided her friend by the arm. Alternate braced himself for what he was about to see, but when they came closer he noticed Fino was nowhere to be found. She wasn’t under the wagon, or anywhere else for that matter. The chains that had held her were unlocked and lying about by the wheel.

Shade was sullen. On the ground beside him was a black bag that obviously didn’t belong to Benson because the doctor already had his bag on hand. When Shade saw Alternate approach, he almost knocked Benson aside as he jumped up from his stone seat.

“You!” Shade bellowed with a pointed finger. “You did this! You freed that little bitch! You’re a _traitor_!”

Alternate was confused. Tony squeezed his arm as she stood close to him. “Wh…What?” he said. He looked to Holloway for an explanation.

The leader stepped toward them, his arms still crossed. The men watched with wariness. “The girl escaped last night,” he said. “Shade was supposed to get information from her, but he was struck from behind. When he awoke, the girl was gone. It is apparent she had help.”

Alternate shook his head in disbelief. “But I—I didn’t do it! I slept the whole night.”

Holloway just stared at him.

Shade looked ready to pounce on Alternate, but Benson tried to coax him to sit down again.

“It’s true,” Tony interjected. “I was with him. We went to bed together last night.”

There was a snicker among the men, and several broke out in knowing grins.

“I believe her,” said one from the back. “They were awfully cozy last night.” Chuckles followed.

Holloway seemed surprised, and his scowl vanished. He had returned to his tent long before the festivities had ended. He hadn’t seen Alternate and Tony leave together.

Alternate glanced at the safecracker, and she looked back at him with all seriousness. “Is that true?” he asked her. “D-Did we really…?” Then it dawned on him, about his trousers and Tony sleeping beside him. Since she wore skirts, it wouldn’t be easy to tell if they had really done anything together. But it would be easy for her to just lift her skirt and do the business. He was so stunned he forgot his hangover.

“I…I don’t even remember,” he said, suddenly feeling thirsty again. His face grew hot with shame and embarrassment. Much to his surprise, Holloway also looked embarrassed with color blooming over his cheeks. What was _he_ so upset about?

“If that’s what happened,” Shade said, “then how in the hell do you supposed she cut her own ties? Who stole her gun out of Holloway’s tent last night? _And who hit me_?!” Out of irritation, he bumped Benson’s hand away from his head. “I had that girl spread out and ready for the cutting. There was no way she could’ve done a single thing for herself.” He motioned to Holloway. “Certainly it couldn’t have been Holloway. He was the one who wanted me to cut her up in the first place!”

Of course Alternate knew that Holloway had ordered it. But remembering it made him nearly lose his balance. Tony helped keep him upright.

The expression on Holloway’s face was one no one had seen before, like someone had just revealed a terrible secret he hadn’t wanted anyone to know. He was mortified. It made the men uneasy to see him like that, and they mumbled amongst themselves.

“Who really knows, Shade?” said Tony with a hard glare. “Maybe the bounty hunter came back and did it? Or one of his henchmen? But it wasn’t Nate!”

“Maybe it was _you_ , then?” Shade replied. “You’re such a tight little team I can imagine how willing you’d be to do it for him, just as willing as you are to let him mount you!”

“That’s enough!” Holloway yelled. His face had gone crimson.

“Like I would ever do such a stupid thing for that girl,” Tony said with disdain. “She shot me. Why would I want to help her? I don’t care if you cut her up.”

Alternate felt his knees go weak again. Tony sounded so cold and cruel it was like someone else speaking through her.

One of the men had grown tired of the argument and said, “Should we try and go after the squaw?”

“By now she’s quite far,” Holloway replied. He had regained some of his composure. “It wouldn’t be worth the effort. But we will scout the area to be sure she isn’t hiding nearby. She took her horse and gun, and will likely be waiting for us like last time. Today we will make some adjustments to our plans to minimize her threat.” He looked at Alternate and nodded. Any hint of anger he had toward him earlier was gone.

Alternate’s head pounded. There was too much information to take in at one time: Fino’s escape, sleeping with Tony without knowing, and Holloway’s strange reactions. He couldn’t analyze any of it because of the pain.

Tony sensed his discomfort and led him back to his tent. They heard Shade get off a few more insults as they left. Holloway said nothing and returned to his shelter.

As he was eased down on the blankets, Alternate said, “Where’s the rifle? If she took the Zodiac, then she may have come for the—“

“I gave it to her,” Tony replied as she turned to find the canteen.

At this point, Alternate was sure his heart would give out. “ _What_ are you _talking_ about?!”

The safecracker shushed him harshly. She glanced at the door of the tent, and the handed him the canteen. He took a greedy drink and wiped a hand over his mouth.

“I was the one who freed her last night,” Tony whispered. “I also took her gun from Holloway, and gave her the book and pocket watch.”

Alternate gritted his teeth, removed his monocle, and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Tony, I had something I needed to tell her! Now she won’t know what it is.”

“Don’t worry. I told her that.” The safecracker gave a sure smile. “It was a nice little carrot on the stick, don’t you think? She wants to know what you wanted to tell her. She’ll cooperate.”

The idea was good, but it wasn’t good enough for Alternate. Now his plans wouldn’t have the same failsafe quality he’d been hoping for. If Fino knew what he wanted her to know, she’d cooperate without a doubt. However, she doesn’t know, and she could easily doubt and change her mind. What else would’ve given her a solid reason to go along with his plan?

“I can’t believe you did that,” he mumbled.

“Nate, you saw what happened just now,” Tony replied. “Everyone thought it was obvious you did it. Didn’t you see the look on Holloway’s face when we arrived?”

Alternate nodded. “And that’s why you…” His cheeks became warm again. “L-Last night, I’m sorry… I don’t remember any of it.”

Tony giggled, and the giggles became a laugh. “Oh, Nate. You don’t need to worry. Nothing happened last night. I opened your pants so you’d believe it when I told you. Everyone else believed it, too.”

Alternate leaned back on his blankets and covered his eyes with his arm. “It was a trick? Tony, that wasn’t very nice.”

“I did it in the dark so I didn’t see anything. I’ve lived with men almost my whole life. Man parts aren’t anything new to me, but I’m sorry I upset you. I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

He turned away from her on the blankets. He did feel a little violated, even though he knew she did it to divert suspicion away from them. She didn’t want him to lie to Holloway, but if anyone ever found out she was the one who freed Fino…

“I’ll go get something from Benson for your headache,” Tony offered. She moved toward the door when Alternate stopped her.

“Tony… Thank you,” he said. “You didn’t have to… I mean, you didn’t have to do any of that last night. It was a huge risk.”

She looked at him kindly, and went out the door.

Alternate felt foolish for feeling so embarrassed about the ruse. At the time he believed it, he was both ashamed and angry with himself for not remembering. It was something he would’ve liked to remember. Now that he knew it hadn’t actually happened, he felt sad. He craved an intimacy that went beyond friendship, but he wanted it to be at the right place, at the right time, with the right person. Had something happened between him and Tony last night, none of that would’ve been lined up.

When he started thinking about the “right person,” he started thinking about Fino. Where was she now? Alternate had been in such shock that he didn’t ask the safecracker about the details of last night. Had Shade been in the act of torturing Fino when she came upon them? Was Fino hurt?

 _I should’ve been the one to free her last night_ , he thought. _She was probably wondering where I was._ He hoped to any god out there that Tony hadn’t said too much. What would Fino think if she knew he’d gotten drunk instead of helping her?

He felt a little burned that Tony just gave over the Lead Messenger. They would have to concoct a plausible explanation for how it went missing. It was easy enough to divert suspicion before, but since the rifle had been in _his_ tent, while the two of them had supposedly been together…

Alternate allowed himself to succumb to the hangover. He curled into a ball on his bed and waited for Tony to return with medicine, although he wondered if it would even work.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t until the afternoon that he was forced to get up. Tony came in, saying Holloway was requesting Alternate’s presence. The medicine she had brought earlier seemed to help somewhat. His head still throbbed, but it was manageable. As he stepped out into the sunlight, he had to squint. The pain didn’t seem as intense as before.

He walked to Holloway’s tent alone, for their leader wanted a private audience. Tony had just returned from a meeting with him and Shade. Alternate was worried, because he would’ve been called in sooner if they had wanted his input on the changes in the plans. He was their “master planner,” after all, but the fact that he hadn’t been summoned to the first meeting indicated that he’d probably been demoted. His heart sank at the thought.

Holloway’s door was pinned open. As Alternate went inside, he was surprised the find the man with a bottle of whiskey. Holloway took a quick swig, corked the bottle, and let it drop to his blankets. When he saw Alternate, he didn’t seem bothered at being caught in the act. Weariness marred his handsome features as he stared back.

“You wanted to see me?” Alternate said, feeling suddenly timid. He wished he hadn’t seen Holloway drink the whiskey. What was he doing drinking this time of day, anyway?

“Shut the door,” Holloway said.

Alternate complied, pinning the door closed so a breeze wouldn’t accidentally puff it open.

Quiet followed as the two stood facing each other. Alternate grew uncomfortable as he realized Holloway was scrutinizing him closely. He couldn’t tell if the leader was displeased or not, but something was obviously going through the man’s head.

“Is this is about the change in plans?” Alternate asked. He had to say something or else Holloway would’ve stared at him forever. The man was the contemplative sort who liked to think before speaking or acting, and he was notorious for being slow about it.

Holloway snapped out of his contemplation and blinked. “Yes. We have decided to take another route to Murdoch. The men have also scouted the area thoroughly and there is no sign of the Indian girl. We can expect to see her again in Murdoch.”

Alternate wanted to contradict that. Since he’d been resting all morning he hadn’t had a chance to talk to Tony about what she told Fino last night.

“We will be placing a few more men outside the bank, those we can still spare,” said Holloway. “It’s the best we can do to keep her at bay in case she comes.”

“Are you still planning on leaving afterwards?” Alternate asked.

“After we meet the outside connection, yes.”

 _Now’s my chance._ He took moment to listen to the sounds outside the door to be sure no one was coming toward the tent. With Shade absent, it was the perfect opportunity.

“There’s something important I need to talk to you about,” Alternate said.

Holloway looked suddenly uncomfortable. He was probably anticipating a discussion about Fino’s torture.Shade would not have acted on his own, so it was reasonable to assume Holloway had approved it. Alternate wasn’t sure how he ought to feel. He was angry, certainly, but he would save the topic for later because there was a far more important matter at hand.

“The other night, I followed Shade and heard him talking to a middle man from the outside connection,” Alternate said. “Shade… He wants to kill you.”

Holloway paused and lifted an eyebrow. “You heard him say that?”

“He didn’t say it outright, but he dropped a lot of hints. He’s not loyal like you think he is.”

“And _why_ would he kill want to me?” Holloway’s tone betrayed his skepticism. “There hasn’t been any animosity between us. I treat him what’s due his position. I have not treated him unfairly.”

“I—I don’t really know. Maybe he wants to usurp your position and take over the gang? The Black Eagles have a notorious reputation that’s lasted for years.”

Holloway glanced at the whiskey bottle lying on the blankets. He heaved a deep sigh. “That man was a liability from the beginning. I knew it, and yet I allowed him to stand beside me.”

 _He believes me?_ Alternate had almost expected the man to laugh and tell him to get out of his shelter. It seemed too easy.

“We can’t let him get away with this,” said Alternate. “We should confront them both when we meet with them.”

“We? I don’t believe you were invited.”

“You want to face them alone? Let me at least hide somewhere.”

Holloway moved toward the door. “There’s nothing stopping us from confronting him now.”

Alternate reached out and grabbed his arm, which startled Holloway, but he stopped. “We shouldn’t,” said Alternate. “What if he causes trouble, and tries to shoot you? There may even be others in the gang who aren’t loyal, who will side with him. We don’t want a gunfight just before we hit the bank. If we confront Shade and the outside connection together, then it’ll be a fair two-against-two. If we bring Tony along, then the odds will be better for us.”

“Does she know about this?”

Alternate nodded. “I told her yesterday.”

Holloway fell into that contemplative state again. He paced the room, rubbing a hand over his jaw and looking troubled. This wasn’t something he needed right now. Right before the biggest heist of his criminal career, he finds his right-hand man is plotting to double-cross him. Combined with Fino’s attack a few days ago and now her escape, his plans were starting to fray at the edges.

After a long stretch, he said, “All right. We will wait until then. But from here on, we keep a close eye on him.” He stepped away from the door and went for one of the bags on his saddle. He rummaged through the bag, looking for something.

A quiet sense of victory settled on Alternate. It would’ve been his word against Shade’s, and Shade could’ve simply lied, so it was incredible Holloway didn’t demand any further proof. But Alternate had to wonder why. Had Holloway also seen signs that perhaps Shade wasn’t loyal?

Taking this as his cue to leave, Alternate edged toward the door. “I’ll go let Tony know, then.”

“Wait.” Holloway found what he was looking for, and stood to hold out the comb.

Alternate hadn’t expected to get the comb back. He hesitated, unsure at first, but as he went to take the comb, Holloway held it tight.

“What’s wrong?” Alternate asked. He was becoming anxious with Holloway’s unusual behavior.

“I didn’t call you here about the change in plans,” Holloway said. “What that girl said about this comb… She told me it belonged to your mother.”

The rush of his pulse seemed to intensify the dull ache behind Alternate’s eyes. His hand began trembling and he was sure Holloway could feel it through the comb. “I—Wh—Fino said…?”

“I spoke with her. She told me why she came to us. Why didn’t you tell me Gordy was dead?”

Alternate swallowed. “I didn’t think you’d care. You hated each other.” He tugged a bit on the comb, but it wouldn’t budge.

Footsteps were heard outside. Shade’s voice carried over from nearby, so Holloway hurried with his next words.

“What was your mother’s name?” he asked.

“I…” Alternate’s mouth went dry. He looked at the comb, feeling the prongs under his fingers. “I can’t remember.”

Holloway’s hand moved forward and grasped Alternate by the wrist, leaving the comb in the younger man’s fingers. The touch was firm but gentle. He leaned in close enough that Alternate could see indigo flecks in his blue eyes. The man’s breath had the strong odor of whiskey.

“You _must_ remember,” Holloway said in earnest. “You don’t even remember her face?”

“No, I was too young.” Alternate didn’t want this, not now. The timing was all wrong. And, really, he couldn’t recall his mother’s name. It had been spoken a few times by some people in a town near the mines where his mother frequented a saloon, and Gordy only mentioned it once when Alternate was a small child. No one ever described what she looked like.

Shade shouted at someone about putting away the whiskey, sounding closer this time. There was a grumble from one of the men. Footsteps approached the tent a fast pace.

Holloway tensed. “ _Remember_ ,” he pleaded softly.

“Holloway!” Shade called from outside the door. His shadow was apparent on the canvas. “Tell these idiots to put away the booze.”

Alternate racked his brain for the memories, even as Shade tapped on the canvas door for attention. Not only were his memories devoid of her face, but also her voice. Gordy had said the woman left when Alternate had just started walking, but never said why.

When he was eight years old, Alternate had snuck into a saloon to watch some gamblers play, intent on learning the games since Gordy had no interest in such things. He caught the attention of one of the men, who found him hidden under a table next to the gamblers. The man grabbed him by the collar, lifted him up, and gave a hearty laugh.

“Aha!” the man had said. “I know this boy. He’s the son of that woman. What was her name again?”

“Fancy?” a second man answered.

“Naw, that’s one of the whores. Ain’t no whores here with kids.”

“Then what woman could you be talkin’ about?”

“That one who shacked up with that crazy miner Gordy.”

“Uhh…”

Alternate remembered his feet dangling off the floor as the man held him. He hung there fuming as the gamblers had talked about his mother with such irreverence. Gordy had recalled her like she was some kind of goddess.

“This is Gordy’s son?” the third man at the table said, leaning forward to get a better look. “Then he must look like his mother because he ain’t got no resemblance to that ugly hellhound.”

The first man barked out a laugh. “His ma may not have been a whore but she sure acted like one!”

This brought about a chorus of bawdy laughter. Alternate had kicked out in fury, shouting insults and defending a woman he had never met. This only boosted the men’s merriment like it was a game.

The second man stopped. “Oh! That’s right. She was a little gal… Liked her men tall. Her name’s on the tip of my tongue…”

“Ooh! Ooh!” said the third gambler. He pounded his hand on the table and rattled the chips. “And didn’t she cure the mayor when he was sick? I remember her now. Her name was—“

Alternate snapped back to the present. “R…” The few mentions of her name flew out from his memory’s library like books flying off a shelf. “Re… Reselda?”

Holloway let go of Alternate’s wrist. He turned away, looking down at the whiskey again with longing.

Shade hadn’t left. He stood there just beyond the door, the shadow indicating his hands were on his hips. “What the hell, are you sleeping in there?” he griped. “The men are coming apart at the seams, Holloway!”

The leader himself seemed to be falling apart at the seams. His shoulders shook, and at first Alternate thought he might be crying, but then the man started to chuckle. With calmness, he said, “I’ll be out in a minute, Shade.”

“Well, be quick about it, because apparently they don’t want to listen to me,” Shade replied. He stomped away and his footsteps faded.

Alternate wanted to tear through the door and shoot the outlaw in the back. Who did he think he was, talking to their leader like that? He was already acting like he was at the helm of the Black Eagles!

Holloway turned and took a deep breath to compose himself. Probably no one realized he could be such an emotional man. He had been genial during the time Alternate had known him, but never had there been tears in his eyes. Holloway wasn’t known for being sentimental.

“Is she alive?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Alternate shrugged with uncertainty. “I was hoping maybe you might know. I heard she knew you.”

“Is that why you came to me? Is that why you joined the Black Eagles?”

Alternate began wringing his hands. His plan was ruined. This was all too soon, and he hadn’t anticipated it. There was no knowing how it might affect his other plans. “Well…part of the reason.”

“And what might the other part be?”

The answer was slow in coming. “I’m looking for the man who killed my father.”

“Your _father_?” Holloway chortled and reached down for the whiskey.

Alternate put his hands out in a calming gesture. “Maybe we should go outside and tell the men to put away the whiskey? No one should be drinking when we have the mission tomorrow.”

The bottle was uncorked and Holloway took a few more drinks. He swore under his breath. He hadn’t heard a word that was said.

“I’ll go tell them,” Alternate offered. He wanted to get out of there before any more questions were asked. The conversation had been veering dangerously close to the one topic Alternate had wanted to delay. He went quickly to untie the door, and once outside he trotted away from the tent, half expecting to hear Holloway call after him.

He had an answer to one of the many questions about his mother at least. Holloway didn’t know if she was alive or not. If he didn’t know, did anyone? The town she used to frequent near Gordy’s mine might have answers, but that place was probably a hundred miles away, and after the heist Alternate might not be able to show his face anywhere.

Alternate went about the camp telling the men to put away the liquor. Shade watched him from afar with a bandage on his head, likely wondering where Holloway was. The outlaw walked around seeming fine despite the wound. Tony hadn’t hit him hard enough to disable him, not even to put him out from the robbery. It was unfortunate.

At least one good thing would be coming out this mess. Shade was going to get what he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's character inspiration time! I loosely based Shade's character on Banjo from _Sabata_ , played by William Berger.  
>   
> I don't know where I got the white clothes idea, but Banjo wears bells on his clothes for some unfathomable reason.


	38. Chapter 38

Ever since she got back to Murdoch, all Fino could think about was what Tony had told her. It made her restless, but there was nothing she could do but wait. During that time, she went over and over in her mind what Alternate had wanted to tell her. He’d had plenty of time to tell Fino this “truth,” so she didn’t understand what the holdup had been. In some ways she was angry with Tony for interfering, but if it hadn’t been for the safecracker Fino would be nothing but a torso with a head. She should be thankful, not angry or seething with jealously.

Since she had no money, Fino couldn’t stay in a hotel like she wanted. Instead, she had to camp just outside of town, but she chose a spot where she believed she might be able to sight the gang upon its arrival. They would avoid main roads. Earlier that morning she scouted the bank, too, to get an idea of where the men would enter or where they might lay traps. She considered telling the people inside the bank that there was going to be a robbery, or tell the local sheriff. These people had a right to know, and a right to a fair fight, but she wasn’t sure anyone would believe her. It wasn’t that she was a young girl, but an Indian. Would they take her word for it? What if they believed she was in on it and was trying to throw them off so they couldn’t stop the robbery?

Fino felt horribly selfish, too. Peoples’ lives were going to be in danger all because she wanted to know what Alternate wanted to tell her, and because she wanted to prove herself to him by following his plan. All because he trusted her again, and because she still wanted his love. Was it worth putting people in danger like that? If innocent people were killed or injured, she felt she would be responsible for neglecting to warn them. So ever since she escaped the outlaws and came to Murdoch, she’d been debating with herself over the ethics of her choice. She still had time to change her mind. She could still stop the gang before it could reach the bank. But something nagged in the back of her mind that she needed to trust Alternate’s plan and stay with it. The incident with Blush loomed large in her memories. She had acted on her own without trusting her partner. She could choose to trust him this time, or not. But, still, the risks to the people…

Fino found herself chewing on her thumbnail as she sat on her blankets. She didn’t have a habit of biting her nails, but she seemed to have developed it since last night. There was nothing else to do but watch and think. It was late morning and Murdoch was a hive of activity. A train whistled near the mines clustered on the hillside, and somewhere there was the clanking of a hammer from a blacksmith. Fino was perched on the edge of a ridge as she gazed out over the town. As she watched the people roving about, her thoughts shifted. White people were very industrious. When they set their mind to it, they settled wherever they wanted and did whatever they wanted. Their towns would expand and grow wherever they put them. This would be good news for the Indians if whites weren’t so hostile towards them. It was always good to find new trading partners, especially wealthy ones with power, but it was useless when they became your enemies and took up all the territory. More than once Fino’s village had been attacked by the white military, and the village leaders often spoke of moving farther away, but the white men always followed. Was there no escaping them? Fino heard horror stories of places called reservations where Indians were sent when they surrendered to the whites. That was the _best_ that could happen, if an entire tribe wasn’t wiped out first.

Hopelessness filled her. What could she do? Her people were not numerous, even if they allied themselves with other tribes. They did not have the kind of weapons or organization the white men did. Some warriors in other tribes had guns and had defended themselves successfully, but Fino’s people were wary of guns. They were reluctant to adopt a new weapon. It felt like abandoning their ancestors. She used to think that way, but she knew it was foolish. If they wanted to defend themselves against the Americans, they would have to fight like Americans.

She had the means to do that. The Zodiac Gun was one of the two strongest guns in the West, and perhaps the whole country. It struck fear in the hearts of her enemies, and had put a powerful criminal syndicate in its grave. She could protect her people with it. Maybe then the Americans would listen and leave them alone.

Hellfire snorted, waking Fino from her thoughts. The horse had been grazing behind her on what sparse grass could be found. She had removed his saddle and the bags, and earlier she got out her medicine kit and managed to stitch the cuts on her shoulder, awkward as it was working from that angle. Shade had cut deep, and Fino was concerned about infection, although so far she was in the clear. She would have to be careful how she moved her arm so she didn’t tear the wound open. She wished she still had her cape, but Shade had torn it beyond repair, and she hadn’t taken the time to retrieve it. At least she was able to sew the strap back together on her dress.

The horse snorted again, and this time Fino looked up. Hellfire was staring off behind their camp with his ears pricked, but when Fino tried to see what he was looking at there was nothing. Of course, the horse wasn’t staring at nothing. There had to be something. Fino worried the outlaws might’ve found her and were trying to sneak up on her, but she had made her camp south of town, and the outlaws were expected to come from the north. Besides, it was too early for them to arrive—that is unless someone left soon after she did to hunt her down. Fino couldn’t afford to be complacent.

Hellfire went back to grazing, but a few minutes later he lifted his head again, directing his gaze to a low rocky ridge behind the camp that stretched east and west for about a mile. He didn’t seem nervous, just curious. But Fino’s skin prickled with a sixth sense. Her warrior instincts told her someone was watching. Beside her sat the Zodiac on the blankets. She kept it there in case she needed it quickly, and it appeared she would. It was already loaded with Scorpio essence, so if the outlaws were planning on ambushing her, they were idiots. They obviously hadn’t learned their lesson the first time.

Somewhere deep in her heart she secretly wished it was Alternate watching her. Maybe he had come to see if she was okay after learning of her escape. But Fino quashed that hope, knowing it was silly to think that. He wouldn’t leave the outlaw camp to go all the way to Murdoch to find her, because it was too far. Yet if it was Alternate who had been in her situation, she would’ve done it. Fino would search the ends of the earth for him, and wouldn’t stop until she met him again in the afterlife.

Hellfire was an obedient horse, Fino had noticed. Aside from their uneasy first meeting as mount and rider, he had grown used to her and listened to her. So when he suddenly started walking away and pulling his reins from the bush Fino had wrapped them around, she knew something wasn’t right. She jumped up to stop him, but stopped herself instead. Hellfire didn’t like the outlaws and gave them a hard time whenever they came near him. He bit and kicked as if he could sense their dark souls. But at the moment he was at ease, not frightened. He wouldn’t be approaching the outlaws if he knew they were there.

Fino began to suspect, but she couldn’t quite believe it. Hellfire kept walking toward the rocky ridge at a leisurely pace. His reins hadn’t been tangled in the bush much, so they pulled out and dragged on the ground behind him. With the Zodiac in hand, Fino followed him, her eyes scanning the ridge with caution. A hawk flew high overhead, cruising on a hot updraft, looking for food. A rattlesnake slithered into the safety of a hole between some rocks. Seeing them reminded Fino of the story she had told Quincy, but the recent events had little resemblance to it now, though it still felt like Fino was trapped in a dark tunnel trying to find her way out, calling for Alternate and hoping to find him so she could take comfort in his presence. But she was crawling along by herself, and she would have to save herself.

Hellfire stopped and stared up the ridge, his ears forward as he listened. Fino followed his gaze, but couldn’t see anything on the ridge. She waited, knowing something had to be there. She kept her finger on the trigger of the Zodiac. It was hard for her to train her hearing and filter out the noise coming from town, so she wondered how Hellfire did it. Or perhaps the horse wasn’t listening, but smelling? It had to be something familiar, or at least something he liked, because otherwise he would’ve shown his unease.

A little bird darted up from the rocks to Fino’s left, startling her a bit. The bird had been disturbed from its place, and Hellfire turned his head in that direction. When he started walking to where the bird had flown out, Fino followed beside him, but there was nothing where the bird had been. Except for a brown lizard sunning itself on a slanted stone, there was no other life among the rocks.

“What’s the matter, Hellfire?” Fino asked, stroking the horse’s neck. “What do you think might be here?”

A bird whistled somewhere, and at first Fino ignored it, but then she realized she’d heard the sound before. The horse’s ears turned back to listen. Soon the whistle came again. Although Fino had recognized it, it didn’t sound like a bird she knew.

Her heart sped up when there was a crunch of a footstep behind her. Acting on impulse Fino spun around and brought up her foot, making contact with the crotch of her stalker. He doubled over with a cry of pain and dropped to the ground on his knees.

“H-How is it—that you never miss, but—your friend does?” Quincy choked out. His hands pressed to his groin as he leaned forward with his forehead in the dirt.

“Quincy!” Fino said excitedly. She knelt down and gave him a firm embrace, but it produced another groan of pain from the bounty hunter.

“Careful!” he told her.

Fino pulled back. “What are you doing here?!You’re not supposed to be walking around like this. Your father said—“

“I know what he said,” Quincy replied, “and I don’t care. I can’t let you do this alone.” He went quiet and took some time to let the pain in his groin pass, but when Fino placed a hand over the place where he had been shot, he flinched.

“It still hurts,” Fino observed. “You shouldn’t be here. I can handle the gang—“

“I see that,” said Quincy with a nod at the stitches in her shoulder. “You’re doing a fine job of it, too.”

Fino felt the stitches and realized she had forgotten about them. “Th-These are nothing.”

“Like hell they aren’t. How’d you get them?”

Fino didn’t want to tell him, but then part of her wanted to if only to gain his sympathy. Alternate had been so cold the entire time she was in the camp. She wanted the warmth of someone’s affection and concern, and if she couldn’t get it from Alternate, then…

“You were right about Shade,” she said at length. “Holloway became interested in my gun, and…”

Quincy, ignoring his own ailments, reached out and fingered the sutures. They were sensitive and red, and Fino hadn’t had anything to wrap over them. His touch tickled.

“Are you really all right?” she asked him. His closeness made her heart hammer.

“I made it here, didn’t I?”

“But how did you know where to find me?”

“I didn’t. I had no idea where you were. I figured the Black Eagles may have captured you. Sticky was out and about because he likes to explore. He saw you and came and told me. My horse is just down the slope.” Quincy looked at her seriously. “You’re telling me Shade did this?”

Fino nodded. “He wanted to torture me, but then Tony saved me.”

“The safecracker? Why?”

She went on to explain the ordeal and watched as Quincy became angrier as the story unfolded. He probed Fino for every detail of how Shade fixed her to the boards and everything he said to her. She hated to remember, and her hands shook as she did. Fino wished Quincy wouldn’t ask so much about it. She had fully believed she would lose her limbs that night, and hadn’t thought anyone would come save her.

Quincy seemed to take satisfaction when Fino told him how Tony whacked Shade in the head with the Lead Messenger.

“It may be to our benefit that there could be some infighting,” Quincy said. He took Hellfire by the reins and walked with Fino back to her camp. She noticed he moved slowly and with a limp, probably from hitting him in the groin earlier, but she wondered if perhaps the gunshot wound was bothering him, too. She was still upset that he had chosen to return to Murdoch.

“Alternate is determined to make the robbery happen,” Fino said. “He won’t risk infighting.”

She wanted to help the bounty hunter sit down on the blankets, but he waved her away. He cringed as he sat, and Fino hoped it was only because of his groin. She worried about the gunshot wound.

Fino took the Lead Messenger from the scabbard on the saddle and handed it to him. He was grateful as he ran a hand over the golden barrel.

“I’ve felt naked with it,” he said with a sigh. “When the gang arrives, we can’t waste any time.” A breeze ruffled Quincy’s dark auburn hair. He hadn’t combed it today, but Fino thought he looked handsome anyway. Color had returned to his face to replace the pallor Fino remembered seeing. He did seem stronger, but she had a hard time believing he was well enough to stop the outlaws.

“You’re not going to let them get out of town?” Fino asked.

“No,” he said, glancing at her with a smile. “For you, I can’t let them. We can’t let them get away or else it’ll hurt your friend’s chances of being pardoned.”

The plan about following the gang to the outside connection had been withheld from Fino’s story. She wasn’t sure how he would react to it, and since she hadn’t anticipated him being here she hadn’t thought about how to present it to him.

“About that,” Fino began, “I, uh…sort of made a promise to Alternate.”

“Sort of?” Quincy asked with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t like the sound of this.”

Fino took a breath. “Alternate wants me to help him. He said Shade and a person they call the ‘outside connection’ want to kill Holloway and take over the Black Eagles. Alternate wants me to help him stop them.”

“So you want to let the Black Eagles rob that bank?”

“It’s not that I _want_ to… It _has_ to happen, according to Alternate. Otherwise Holloway won’t meet with the outside connection. They have to pay him.”

Quincy gave her a quizzical look as if he didn’t quite understand. “Robbing a bank is an awfully drastic thing to do just to have a chance to meet with someone. Who is this outside connection, anyway?”

“I’m not sure. Tony said he was a ‘supplier’ or something. I’m not sure what that means.”

The statement triggered something in Quincy. “A supplier? Like a weapons supplier?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

The bounty hunter narrowed his eyes and glanced down at the town. “A weapons supplier…”

“You know who she’s talking about?”

“I’ve been too busy chasing the Black Eagles to go after that guy. He’s notorious for selling weapons to outlaws, especially big gangs like the Black Eagles. Guy knows his stuff, like he’s been doing it for years, but he’s only been a problem over the last few months.” Quincy shook his head. “I don’t know his real name, but he goes by a few aliases. His most popular one is the Captain.”

“Have you ever seen him?” Fino asked.

“No. He’s smart and limits who can see his face. I’ve heard he’s dangerous, too. He once killed some seven or eight people in one sitting. I guess I can’t blame Alternate for wanting your help.” Quincy nodded at her gun. “Especially when you have something like that.”

“So… What do you think?” Fino inquired warily. “Can we afford to let the Black Eagles escape—at least for a while?”

“How important is this to you?”

Fino had to think about that. She wouldn’t be doing it because she cared about Alternate’s parental connection to Holloway. None of that was important to her. What was important was Alternate. If this outside connection was as bad as Quincy made him sound, then it was very important that Fino protect Alternate since he’s so bent on protecting Holloway. And then there was this truth Alternate wanted to tell her…

“He trusts me,” Fino said, “and it’s important I maintain that. There’s something he wanted to tell me, and I won’t know what it is until I see him again.”

“Fino, that’s ridiculous,” Quincy said with a dubious look. “You want to let the Black Eagles have their way so he can tell you a secret? Do you have any idea what you’re proposing we do?”

“The same thing you wanted to do earlier?”

Quincy’s face reddened with embarrassment. “That was a bad plan, and it’s still a bad plan. I don’t know now if I can help your friend if he actually pulls this off.”

“Well, you don’t have to be a part of it if you don’t want to.”

“I’m _not_ letting you go alone.”

“And you won’t get far limping around the way you do. If you want to go with me you’ll have to keep up, and I won’t slow down if you can’t.”

Quincy looked disappointed. “That’s not fair. You told me before that you’d be fine, and I believed you.”

“You still delayed, but I’m not going to. Besides, you were almost shot in the heart.” The argument was only going to get heated, so Fino stood and went for her saddle bags. She pulled out the pocket watch and little book and brought them to him. He was glad for the pocket watch, but more excited for the book. As he was flipping through the pages, Fino said, “You’ll be disappointed to know Alternate can read.”

“How would that disappoint me?” asked Quincy.

“He told me about what you wrote.” Warmth crept into Fino’s face. Though Alternate didn’t give her the full details, it was enough knowing the gist of the topics covered in the poems. “You think I’m…” What was the word Alternate had used? “S-Smitten with you?”

The bounty hunter showed no reaction as if Fino had declared water was wet. “Yes,” he replied.

Fino folded her arms and felt suddenly insecure. She looked away from him and at the buzzing town. “I—I want to make something clear. I like you, I really do. But I love Alternate. When this is all over, I want him to come home with me. So do you think you can write about that instead?”

“I’m sorry if the poems offended you,” Quincy said. He gave her a friendly smile. “But the book is meant to be private. What I put in there is for my eyes only. I write what pleases me.”

His words were not defensive, and Fino had to agree that the book was none of her business. Quincy had the freedom to express his thoughts, and she didn’t have a say in that. But, still, it embarrassed her that he had recognized her feelings for him. He must’ve thought she was a foolish little girl with a crush.

“They didn’t offend me,” she admitted. “I was just embarrassed, that’s all.”

“You don’t need to be,” Quincy said, and his smile widened. “It’s a normal part of life, liking people—or loving them. You’re an interesting girl, Fino, and I like you, too.”

Fino didn’t know what to make of that. She just stared at him with wide eyes. He just said he _liked_ her.

Quincy chuckled. “Like a sister,” he clarified. “I’m an only child, you see.”

That disappointed her, and yet she didn’t know why. It would’ve been strange had he returned her feelings, and it didn’t change how she felt about him, although she was relieved to finally have everything out in the open. He wasn’t bothered by the fact that she had a crush on him, which was another relief.

“Then stop teasing me,” she told him as she sat down on the blankets with him.

“You mean stop making you blush?” Quincy asked with a grin. “But I like seeing you blush. It’s cute!”

“It won’t be so cute when I punch you in the chest.”

Quincy chuckled again, albeit nervously. He wasn’t in any position to be provoking her; she did just kick him in the nuts. He put his hands up. “All right, I won’t do it anymore.”

“So do you agree about the plan?” Fino asked, hoping to steer the topic to something else.

“I don’t like it,” said Quincy, “because I can’t guarantee I can help your friend after that. I can try, but…”

“I don’t think it makes any difference,” Fino said. She found a stray strand on the blanket and began twisting it absently. “He’s already in enough trouble. I don’t think you’ll be able to get him pardoned, anyway.”

Quincy peered at her. “You’ve given up on him?”

Fino sighed. “It’s his reputation I’ve given up on, not him. I’ll take him home to my village and protect him from there.”

“You do realize this’ll mean harboring a criminal?”

“The white man already treats my people like criminals. What’s one more?”

Quincy seemed stunned by her words and went silent.

The two of them sat together on the blankets, listening to the clanging from the blacksmith’s shop and the whistling of the train in the distance. The breeze picked up again and swept over them. Hellfire went back to grazing, content that his master had returned. The moment was peaceful, but a certain storm was coming. Fino kept watching the horizon for the outlaws, but the horizon remained clear. All she could see were wagons and riders coming into town, and none of them were the outlaws as far as she could tell. She wondered where they planned on entering Murdoch, and when.

“Quincy, what will you do after you capture Shade?” Fino asked. “You’ve spent years trying to find him. After he’s gone…”

Quincy shrugged.

“Will you stay a bounty hunter?” Fino said.

“Probably not,” he replied. “I owe my parents some peace of mind. I might just stay at the station and work there.”

It didn’t sound very exciting to Fino, but she supposed it was better than constantly putting himself in danger with outlaws.

“Your cooking could probably help improve things,” Fino said with a little smile.

Quincy nodded. “Perhaps.”

Fino got the sense he didn’t really know what he was going to do after Shade was out of the picture. She herself had a hard time imagining what she would do once Blush was dead and gone. For many years she had fantasized about killing him, and she could only try to imagine what it would be like to have that lustful vengeance gone. She could hardly remember what it was like before her parents died. Maybe, after it was over, she would do as her grandfather suggested and marry. It seemed like the logical next step. But when she started thinking about that, she started thinking about _who_ she would marry. If Alternate came back to live in her village, she wasn’t going to go marry some other man. She loved Alternate, and if she had to choose a husband, she’d rather choose him.

Fino rubbed her eyes. _I’m so ridiculous to thinking these thoughts._ She was getting a little ahead of herself for considering such things. She was still quite young and could afford to extend her adolescence a few more years. Marriage should be the last thing on her mind. Funny how falling in love could change that.

“You should get married,” Fino said to Quincy. The words had just sprung forth, but it had occurred to her that he was old enough.

The bounty hunter gave her a sharp look, startled by the statement. “You’re telling _me_ to get married?”

The warmth of the sun, combined with the excitement from earlier, was beginning to make Fino a bit sleepy. She yawned.

“Life is better lived with someone beside you,” Fino replied. “Or at least that’s what someone once told me.” She was pretty sure it had been her aunt. Singing Bird was a people person and at times a match maker, always scoping out young men for Fino.

Quincy was amazed at her. Fino had been bold before, but not this bold.

“Well, I don’t know about you,” she said, “but whatever happens in the end, I’m going back to where I belong. I want to be where I’m needed, and I believe my people need me.” Hopefully Alternate would be counted among those who needed her as well.

It was unusual how Quincy didn’t respond. He watched her for a time and then looked down at the town. He seemed to be thinking of something, but whatever it was he wasn’t inclined to share it with her. As much as Fino wanted to ask him about it, she decided to let him have his private thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character inspiration time! Sticky and Lobo's characters were loosely based on Carrincha (right) and Alley Cat (or Indio) (left) from _Sabata_ , played by Ignazio Spalla and Aldo Canti, respectively.  
> 
> 
> We are getting close to the climax of the story! If you think this story is getting long, I just got done reading _Lonesome Dove_ , all 365,712 words of it.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I’d like to thank those readers who have been leaving so many kudos. I never, ever thought this story would get this kind of response.

The Black Eagles were as ready as they were ever going to be. It could not be helped that some of the men were still sore, and a few were going have to sit out entirely, but enough of them were well enough to take part. They had loaded up camp faster than expected, and headed out for Murdoch that morning.

The subject of Fino’s escape was popular conversation, and Alternate overheard several men mumble that maybe he really had had something to do with it. Everyone noticed the absence of the Lead Messenger, and Alternate tried to explain that Fino or whoever helped her must’ve taken it while he and Tony slept. The others didn’t seem convinced, but they didn’t accuse him of anything. Eventually it would get back to Shade, who was still adamant that Alternate was responsible for Fino’s release. No one at all suspected Tony.

Holloway led the gang through the desert, and Shade rode beside him, oblivious to the fact that Holloway knew of his impending betrayal. Alternate glared hard at the outlaw, as if glaring alone would light Shade on fire and send him into a smoldering heap of ashes. Alternate was already practicing in his mind where he would shoot him when they meet the outside connection. He wanted Shade punished, and he would make sure the outside connection got the same. No one was going to lay a hand on Holloway.

Alternate had watched the outlaw leader closely all day. Holloway seemed to have settled down somewhat since yesterday, but he was avoiding Alternate again, and the few times they did speak the topic of their awkward meeting was never brought up. Holloway had seemed bitterly amused when Alternate called Gordy his father. Perhaps he never believed Gordy could be anything but greedy, violent, and selfish, wholly inept in parenthood. Certainly Gordy hadn’t been a perfect person, let alone a perfect parent, but Alternate had admired him for his strength and power. The miner got whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and if someone stood in his way he would throw them aside like they were nothing. Alternate saw a way to get what he wanted without necessarily having to work too hard to get it. But instead of using brute strength, he used his brains and developed a knack for manipulation. He used to be proud of that ability until he met Blush, the ultimate manipulator. Blush had toyed with him like it was as natural as breathing. Had Alternate continued on his path of darkness, would he have ended up like that killer? It made him shiver to think about it.

Tony was beside him and had been quiet since the start of the trip. She appeared worried and anxious, unlike the first time they had attempted this journey. Her arm was well on its way to recovery, and with a lot of rest the previous day the pain had eased and Tony was able to move her arm without much trouble. She had assured everyone that she could use her guns, but Holloway was a bit uncertain. He allowed her to join the mission, but if something happened to her then they would have a hard time getting the safe open. She was a valuable resource Holloway couldn’t afford to lose, but Alternate knew it was also because the man cared for her and didn’t want to see her killed.

Sometimes Alternate envied her in a way. She was closer to Holloway than anyone else, and knew more about him. Rarely did she ever share anything. Alternate knew it was out of respect for Holloway and his privacy. A few times Alternate had tried to coax information out of Tony, but she knew his tricks a little too well. It only made him try harder, and Tony would resist all the more. She would allow him little tidbits of knowledge here and there, but not enough to develop a fuller picture.

Hours passed. They stopped at the spring as they had before, refreshed themselves, and then moved on. Conversation became scarce. The men seemed grim, especially after witnessing Holloway’s unusual behavior over the last few days. He just wasn’t quite himself. It was almost as if some part of him had come loose and fallen off in the sand somewhere, and Alternate wanted to go back and find it. Since yesterday Holloway had begun looking at him differently, looking like he wanted to say something but then turning away. Why did it seem like he was afraid?

 _Could he suspect?_ Alternate wondered. _Does he know I want to ask him if he’s my father?_ There was no way Holloway would know about that. If he did, he would’ve mentioned something sooner. Their private meeting yesterday would’ve been the best opportunity to mention it, but all Holloway cared about was Reselda.

Since remembering her name, Alternate had done nothing but repeat it over and over in his mind, trying to recall the moments he had heard it in the past. He whispered it under his breath to feel the syllables on his tongue. He imagined the name like a magic spell, a childish dream that if he said her name a prescribed number of times, she would appear. With her name he tried to remember what she looked like, but it was hopeless, so he could only wonder. Holloway would know. She must’ve been a stunning woman for a man like him to have fallen so desperately in love with her, and then had his heart so badly broken that he never loved again. Maybe Alternate looked a little like her. Maybe he had her nose or lips, or perhaps her laugh or her smile. Tony mentioned that Alternate walked like Holloway and shared some of his personality. When Alternate pressed her for more similarities she admitted they got the same taut look on their faces when considering a difficult problem, and they would both get that same devious grin when devising a scheme. Alternate didn’t know why but he felt proud that he shared a sense of mischief with Holloway. They would’ve made a formidable pair of tricksters had he grown up with him.

He daydreamed the rest of the way to Murdoch, eating a little bit of jerky here and there. He imagined a different past where he had grown up with Holloway, robbing stagecoaches and trains and turning rich peoples’ worlds upside down. The man would teach him and guide him, and they would sit together at the campfire and talk of who or what they’d strike next. Holloway would be proud of him and call him his son. If Alternate’s life had been that way, then he would never have met Blush or ran into the Syndicate. Gordy still would’ve been murdered, but Alternate wouldn’t have known about it or even cared.

 _Wouldn’t have cared?_ He also wouldn’t have cared about Fino, or Yaghi, or Mingchao, or Benkate, or Baskerville. He would never have met any of them. This was something he thought of often. The past he wished to have lived would not have allowed him to meet his friends. It had been a precious gift to meet them, because without them he would not be who he is today. Thus he felt guilty for preferring to have lived a different life than the one he’d had. It’s not that never cared to meet those people, or never wanted to grow up with Gordy. It was just sometimes he wished things could’ve been a little different, like a warmer, more genuine relationship with his father. To his credit Gordy hadn’t been entirely cold, because otherwise Alternate wouldn’t have cared very much for him. But over time, as Alternate got older, he began to see what was actually important to the miner, and it wasn’t him.

His mind was lost in memories when the sun began to set. The sky dimmed to purple in the approaching twilight, and the underbellies of the clouds were aflame in orange-red radiance. A few early stars peeked through the dome of sky. As the gang came to a ridge, they could see the lights of Murdoch down in the valley. The small figures of people moved about in the streets, and the faint sound of a blacksmith’s hammer echoed.

Alternate brought his steed to stand beside Holloway. “Should we wait until full dark?” he asked him. “It looks to me like too many people are still out.”

“We should,” Holloway agreed, “but not too long.”

“We need the bank to be empty,” Shade reminded him. “That way we only need to bother with the guards.”

A sinister smile curled Holloway’s lips. The look startled Alternate. By now he ought to be used to it because Holloway had been exhibiting that look for several days now. But Alternate wasn’t used to the dark intent that gleamed in the man’s eyes. Somehow he got the feeling Holloway had some other unknown stratagem he hadn’t made known. Robbing a bank, or anything else, shouldn’t have elicited this sort of response in him. _There’s something special about this_.

The gang waited until the purple sky deepened to blue, and then the blue began fading to black. The men grew restless for Holloway’s order to move forward. Earlier, seven members, those still too injured to go, departed for the rendezvous point. A few others scouted about, looking for Fino, but returned saying they saw no sign of the Indian girl. Some had gone as far as the opposite side of Murdoch. No one went into town, however, so they weren’t sure if she was hiding out down there or not.

“She will know the bank has guards,” Holloway said. “It will not be difficult for her to discern which bank it is.”

“She’ll be waiting for us there,” Shade replied. He turned a sharp look on Alternate. “It ought to be _your_ job to keep an eye out for her, and if she shows—“

“No, he will be coming with us,” Holloway interjected. “He has worked too hard to be a mere watch.”

Alternate felt flattered, but he had almost taken up Shade’s demand. He would feel better watching for Fino knowing he may do better defending the gang against her. Even though Tony said Fino had agreed to go along with his plan, he still couldn’t be sure she would. Again he felt guilty. Where before he said he would trust Fino—and he had wanted her to help him—now he found himself wavering in doubt. It was asking too much of his friend to allow a bank to be robbed. It wasn’t fair to her. _This was the whole reason I wanted to keep her out of this!_ He was turning her into an accomplice. How did that make her feel? What would her friends and family think of her?

Only Holloway seemed to know when the time was right. Close to an hour passed before he motioned for the men to move. They filed down a trail leading into Murdoch, the wagon with its boxes of dynamite following behind them.

The bank was located in a part of town away from many of the popular saloons, which were nearer the mines; however, a sheriff’s office stood only a block away. This was the one major concern Holloway had had aside from the guards, but he had a way to remedy that. As the gang came close to the bank, he dispatched a few of the men carrying dynamite. They cantered down the street in the direction of the sheriff’s office and disappeared into the night.

The streets in this part of town were mostly devoid of the populace. Those who were still out and about didn’t seem to care much about the large group of men and a wagon coming into town so late in the evening. They may have figured the gang for cowboys coming in from a drive stopped somewhere outside the settlement. Lights shone through the windows of some businesses that were still open, but citizens were retiring for the night. Others would be heading for the saloons.

The gang broke up into groups, those going into the bank in one cluster, and those who would stay outside in another. They put distance between each other as they came into view of the bank. Its impressive size seemed out of place with the rest of Murdoch, taking up almost half a block by itself, and it had the unique feature of street lamps out front. The glow from the lamps threw a yellow cast on the white stone blocks that made up the structure and coruscated on the wide windows. Tall pillars adorned the long portico, above which was a balcony wrapped around the second story. The bank inspired a sense of respect in the presence of the lesser wooden buildings around it, anchored forever to the earth and towering over the peons that were the citizens of Murdoch. Looking at it Alternate almost felt like the building was daring anyone to penetrate its defenses. It was odd how an inanimate construction could seem so mocking with an air of superiority. Whoever owned this bank was a very wealthy man.

Nothing rankled Holloway more than arrogant rich folk. His only targets were the wealthy. Alternate didn’t know why. Whenever the gang returned with their loot after a holdup, Holloway was always careful to reserve some for charity, whether for an orphanage, hospital, school, and one time a _church_. That had left everyone scratching their heads. Yet Holloway never explained his reasons, and everyone knew better than to ask. He made it clear it was none of anyone’s business. Alternate believed Tony was the only person who knew. He vowed someday he would know, too.

The first group of men led by Holloway stopped a distance from the bank, dismounted, and walked their horses closer before stopping again just outside the glowing range of the lamps. They pulled bandanas up over their noses to hide their faces. Two guards were seen crossing the front of the bank on the second story, carrying rifles. As they turned a corner they faded into the darkness. Alternate counted ten seconds before the second pair of guards appeared on the ground level.

Lights were visible in the windows, though only on the first floor, and it appeared to be a single light or maybe a few. Someone was still inside. Alternate had hoped no one would be inside, but it seemed there would be. He knew that if there was, and they put up a fight, Holloway would kill them without a second thought. Alternate didn’t want to see that. In all the time he had known the outlaw leader he had never seen him kill anyone, or even heard of it, though it wasn’t hard to believe Holloway might’ve. He was an outlaw, after all. It was a rough life to live.

Alternate took a quick drink from his canteen to wet his dry mouth. His hands trembled. The first bank they had hit had been much smaller than this one. Even with all his planning, now that they were facing the real deal, he was starting to get nervous. The gang’s numbers were sufficient, but somehow he still felt they were in for a hard fight. Those who will be hit and unable to keep up will be left behind. Alternate worried all the more for Tony, because he didn’t think he would be able to leave her behind should she get hurt.

He almost forgot about Fino. So far there hadn’t been any trouble. He wondered if she was out there watching from the shadows. The gang would be able to handle the guards just fine, but one bullet from the Zodiac could change everything in an instant. Sometimes Alternate would try to look into the darkness to see if he could spot his friend anywhere, or scan the tops of buildings expecting to see her standing over them. She appeared absent, but he knew that wasn’t true. He could almost sense her eyes on him. She had the sort of penetrating gaze he could feel from afar. Her glares were notorious. Fino was most certainly watching him.

The guards vanished in their rounds. The first few seconds of that precious interval began, and Holloway led his group up the front steps of the portico. They darted through the lamplight and spread out in the shadows afforded by the columns. The second group came in not too far behind with the wagon, but stayed outside the lamplight. They began unloading the dynamite and distributed the sticks.

Somewhere down the street one of the men ignited the first of the dynamite. An explosion pulsed in the air, and a cloud of debris, smoke, and dust shot out from the side of the street. Another eruption followed, and then another in quick succession. The first signs of fire flickered on the building they had chosen to raze. Alternate’s throat constricted. It wouldn’t be long before the fire grew and consumed everything in its path.

Using the noise as cover, some of the men broke through one of the windows closest to the bank’s door. Once inside, the lock was shot repeatedly until the door managed to open, and the gang flooded through the entrance. Alternate’s heart was pounding when he scrambled in after making sure everyone made it inside. He shut the doors behind him, and three of the outlaws stood at ready with their guns waiting in case the guards tried to break through. By now they would’ve noticed or heard something. It was also likely the guards would be distracted by the chaos outside and even leave their posts to go help, but it was more likely someone might notice a commotion inside the bank and come see what was wrong. So the men were alert as they made their way to the safe toward the back of the building in another room. On the inside the bank didn’t seem as large, but the furnishings and woodwork were just as impressive as the outward stonework. Alternate had been inside once before, scoping the place out in the early stages of formulating his scheme. He thought it resembled the kind of bank one might find in the bigger eastern cities. It made him wonder who the owner was.

When Alternate saw the enormous circular door embedded in the stone wall he became worried. This was the first time he’d seen it, and he didn’t realize it’d be so large and formidable. But Tony was undeterred. She immediately went to work on the large dial, her slender fingers spinning it back and forth furiously. Her concentration so focused that she didn’t flinch when gunshots were heard outside. Alternate watched her in awe. He’d seen her do this before, but it never ceased to amaze him. Tony said it was in the fingers. She felt for each slight click of the notches within the lock, but the minutes passed and Alternate grew impatient. He didn’t know how many numbers Tony needed to find. The men stood tensely as they waited. Holloway had stayed with the men near the door.

After five minutes Tony informed them that she was finally looking for the last number, but as she said it there were shouts from the lobby. A voice called out angrily, and a scuffle ensued. Fearing the guards had gotten through Alternate left the vault and ran for the lobby. For a few seconds he thought perhaps it wasn’t the guards, but Shade in the act of betrayal, and that he may have had Holloway in a hold. Alternate broke out in a sweat just at the thought of it, but when he came into the lobby he found a well-dressed man sitting on the floor below a teller’s window. With his back to the wall he looked both frightened and indignant. Holloway stood over him with his large revolver pointed at the man’s head.

As Alternate skidded to a stop beside Holloway, the leader jerked his head to tell him to get back. Alternate complied, but his worries doubled when he saw how serious Holloway was. He never lowered his revolver as he stood glaring at the man on the floor. Their hostage was sweating profusely under his captor’s gaze, but a silent fury was building his dark eyes. He was somewhere in his fifties, had a thin gray mustache, and his hair had been combed back with style—that is until a few seconds ago. Now it hung over his eyes.

Much to everyone’s astonishment, Holloway pulled down his bandana, revealing his face. Their hostage’s eyes went wide, and his resentment mixed with shock. He seemed at a loss for words at first, his mouth working to form something. He brought up a quivering finger and pointed it at Holloway.

“Y-Y-You!” the man stammered. “It’s _you_!” The fury in his eyes suddenly died away and was replaced by terror. “Holloway! I knew someday you’d try something like this.”

Holloway said nothing.

“You’re a hoodlum!” the man on the floor shouted. His anger flared again, turning his face red and causing veins to rise on his neck. “You never would amount to anything. Father knew that and that’s why he—“

Holloway fired a shot into the wall just to the right of the man’s head. The hostage jumped, covered his ears, and looked at the hole that could’ve been in his head.

“The only ‘hoodlums’ in this world are your own kind,” Holloway said in a composed tone. “It is _you_ who value human life the least. You believe I have not amounted to anything? Yet here you are, knocked on your ass with my gun between your eyes, and your precious vault draining bit by bit.”

Alternate was perplexed by this exchange. Holloway’s voice, although calm, was saturated with deadly intent. It made the hairs on the back of Alternate’s neck stand on end. The air was becoming charged in the room, and it seemed the men around them could feel it, too. They were also confused and uncertain.

“They’ll kill you,” the hostage spat. “When they catch you, you’ll hang. I’ll be there personally to knock the door out from under you.”

“This is already the land of the dead,” said Holloway.

The statement was strange, but before Alternate had a chance to process it one of the men from the vault came running in to declare the safe had opened. Others followed behind him with bulging sacks of money. Outside the gunshots had faded, but the men took caution as they opened the front doors again and headed out. More dynamite was detonated in the distance. As the doors swung open, Alternate caught a glimpse of an orange glow in the sky. Their preselected building was ablaze.

The hostage fixed a look on Alternate. “You bring boys into your crimes? You are more debased that I ever imagined, Holloway. Father was right to deny you his name.”

Holloway took a step forward. Behind him the men were busy hauling the money to the wagon parked just outside. The last person to leave the vault was Tony, carrying a sack of her own. She glanced at the hostage but didn’t stop as she slipped out the door with the rest of the gang. Soon the only people remaining were Holloway, Alternate, and their hostage.

“Holloway, we have to go,” Alternate said. “It’s not worth it. Let him go. We have to get out of here before someone comes.”

The two men stared at each other silently. That familiar smile came to Holloway’s lips—and he shot the hostage in the leg. The man shrieked at the spray of blood that erupted from his thigh. Another bullet struck his other thigh, causing him to writhe on the floor clutching his legs. The sound of his agony turned Alternate cold.

Alternate dared to grab Holloway’s shoulder and pull him back. “Don’t! Let’s just leave him. We need to leave, _now_!”

At first it looked like the leader would resist, but he returned to his logical senses and gave the hostage one final, victorious smile. He saved the last bullet for the man’s shoulder. Alternate was certain it had been meant for his brain.

As they were leaving, the hostage howled in anguish.


	40. Chapter 40

The Black Eagles let out three hoorahs around the enormous bonfire they’d constructed. The light was cast upon every beaming face as they danced, sang, and passed around the remaining whiskey. It was a reckless party considering how the fire would easily give them away to lawmen, but there would have to be an equal force to match the Black Eagles’ numbers. They were so high from their success that they could’ve fought a gun battle until morning, which at that moment was fast approaching. Once they cleared Murdoch they put miles behind them—no one kept count. Taking a trail into the nearby mountains they found refuge in the rugged terrain and took a high point that could be defended. But they knew their time was short.

Alternate and Tony were left with the task of dividing the loot, a tedious and sometimes problematic chore. They had to do the math, which was easy with cash, but a few pieces of jewelry and some precious stones had been taken from the vault. How to decide the value of each was a job in itself. No one knew how to sum up the value of a diamond necklace or a broach studded with sapphires. The funny part was how reluctant some of the men were to claim any of it. They wanted cash because the jewelry was too conspicuous and not as easy to spend. In the end Alternate had to take most of it, although he really didn’t want it, either. They should’ve left it back at the bank.

Dividing up the loot was time consuming. Alternate was edgy and wanted to get it done quickly because Holloway had gone off by himself. It would soon be time for him to announce his retirement, so Alternate knew he wouldn’t just walk off and leave everyone without a word. What had happened in the bank replayed in Alternate’s mind, it had been so strange, but now he believed he understood why Holloway targeted the Western American Bank. It hadn’t been about money. It never was.

It was about revenge.

Once they were getting to the end of their calculations, Alternate whispered to Tony, “I have to go find Holloway. I have to talk to him.”

Tony hadn’t said anything about what happened with the man in the bank. She didn’t claim whether she knew him or not, but she appeared somber. Alternate felt she knew something about it, but like she had mentioned before, only Holloway could explain it. That’s exactly what Alternate hoped for.

“I understand,” was all Tony said. She went back to counting the rest of the money.

With the men being in such high spirits none of them noticed Holloway’s absence. Shade was among them, but he chose not to imbibe and was calmer than the rest. He even appeared satisfied. Alternate had to control the urge to shoot him on the spot. He was fuming about using dynamite in Murdoch, and burning down that building. He blamed himself for not trying to convince Holloway of another way. In their mad dash to escape town he didn’t see if innocent people were hurt.

_I’m done with all this. I can’t do this anymore. When Holloway leaves, I’m going with him._

_But what about Fino?_

He couldn’t go back to her village, not after all he’d done—not just to other people, but to her as well. He had betrayed her and excluded her, treated her like she wasn’t important, even though she was supposed to be. He put his goals before her, and even put Holloway and Tony before her. It hadn’t been fair. Alternate saw no hope in going back with Fino, or any hope of being with her at all. If the law caught up with him, and she was with him, she might be punished, too. He had to stay away from her.

His heart heavy, Alternate picked up a lantern and set out, leaving the men to carouse. He figured Holloway couldn’t be too far away. If he couldn’t find him, he would go back to the men and wait there. Holloway couldn’t delay his departure much longer.

Alternate wandered around, following narrow game trails and going where he felt Holloway may have gone. He kept the gang within earshot. He imagined how disappointed they were going to be, but probably the most disappointed person was going to be Shade. Holloway was announcing his retirement _before_ meeting the outside connection. The men might stick around, but they might also scatter. There won’t be a gang for Shade to take over. Would that make him angry? Would he lash out and shoot Holloway?

 _No, he wouldn’t do that. Those who are most loyal to Holloway would fight back. I know I would, and so would Tony._ Shade would be badly outnumbered, and despite what Alternate had warned Holloway about earlier, he didn’t believe there was anyone else in the gang who would side with Shade. Shade was too smart for that. He would wisely hold his tongue and hope later he could maintain the gang under his influence, if it didn’t break apart first.

Alternate was thinking about this when he suddenly came upon Holloway. Startled, he almost dropped the lantern. Holloway had been sitting in the dark on a slope, giving him a good view of the valley sheathed in moonlight. Perhaps he was keeping watch for a posse. Above them the stars shimmered in the clear sky like the jewels they had taken from the vault.

“Wouldn’t it be funny to go up and steal the stars?” Alternate remarked to break the ice.

Holloway gave a start and turned to look at him with a bewildered expression. He said nothing.

“But probably God would come after us,” Alternate added with a nervous laugh. “I think I’d rather steal peoples’ money.”

Holloway looked back at the valley and was silent. Alternate went to stand beside him. He considered sitting with him, but somehow it didn’t feel appropriate to be so chummy. A pang of sadness hit him then. He wished very much that he could sit with Holloway and be chums.

A period of quiet followed. In the lantern’s glow Holloway looked grim, but his face never betrayed his thoughts.He was as cold and motionless as the mountain itself, as if he had become part of it. If he sat long enough he would become a stone like all the others. Alternate wanted the job of keeping him human.

“That man in the bank,” Alternate began cautiously, “who was he? You knew him.”

Holloway didn’t respond, but Alternate was stubborn. He would wait until dawn if he needed to, but it wouldn’t be good to force anything out of the man.

Then Holloway did something unprecedented. He reached into his long jacket and pulled out paper and tobacco. After rolling himself a cigarette, he lit it and began to calmly smoke it. He wasn’t known to smoke, although rumors said he enjoyed a good cigar. Alternate had never tried the stuff himself, but seeing Holloway do it was amazing. He almost wanted to sit down and ask for a try. But again it was too chummy.

Holloway took several long drags before replying, and tapped off the ashes. “He was my half-brother.”

Alternate had figured that after analyzing everything the hostage had said. But he was still surprised to actually hear it. “You had the same father?”

Holloway nodded. “The man who fathered me was a banker—a money-grubbing son-of-a-bitch who used my mother like a dirty rag, and tossed her away like she was a piece of trash.” The acerbic words could’ve melted a hole through the side of the mountain.

He nursed the cigarette awhile, glowering down at the valley as bitter thoughts pervaded his mind. The stick was down to a stub before he spoke again. “She was his mistress. I had no right to inheritance. I was just his bastard son.” He crushed the cigarette in the dirt beside him, driving the head deep as if crushing the face of the man who had sired him.

“That’s sad,” Alternate said softly. “I’m sorry.” Now it all made sense. Holloway had targeted the bank out of revenge, and perhaps spite. While his half-brother owned considerable wealth, Holloway scraped by on theft, probably since childhood. Yet something didn’t add up. Holloway was a successful bandit, bringing in quite a bit of money not just for his men, but for himself as well—if he chose to. Instead, he only took modest sums. He wasn’t interested in wealth. In fact, he seemed to reject it, preferring to live in moderation.

With his father’s rejection came Holloway’s rejection of the upper classes, punishing them for the wrongs his father committed. He had no desire to live like them.

Finally Holloway turned to him. “But you would know what it’s like to be a bastard son, wouldn’t you?”

Alternate bristled. He wanted to assert that he was no bastard son because he’d had a father, but the words died on his tongue when he saw the resigned way Holloway gazed at him. All the collected energy from the robbery had drained out of him, leaving only what might’ve been his true self. It was raw and unsettling.

Alternate didn’t know how to respond. This was the moment he’d been waiting for since he planned on joining the Black Eagles, but he never thought Holloway would be the one to broach the subject.

Holloway then stood and faced him squarely. “Your plans for coming to us were three-fold,” he said. “You came looking for answers about your mother, and the man who killed Gordy, but you also came looking for _me_.”

Setting down the lantern, Alternate had to wipe his hands on his trousers they were getting so sweaty. The night was cool, but the squall of emotion that had risen up in his heart sent his pulse throbbing in his ears, and his face felt like it was on fire.

“H-How did you know?” Alternate asked. His throat had become dry and he wished he’d brought some water with him. “Was it that obvious?”

“The fact that you came to me made it obvious,” Holloway replied. “I didn’t think you knew.”

“W-Well, I always kind of wondered about it. People talked, but I didn’t take it seriously at first. It wasn’t until after my father died that I started thinking about it again.”

Holloway’s eye twitched. He appeared annoyed at something.

“I _think_ it might be true,” said Alternate. “I mean, sometimes I think I look a little like you… Everyone says you knew my mother, so I thought the chances were good.”

“I more than ‘knew’ your mother,” Holloway said with a slight smile.

“I—I know that. That’s what I meant. What I don’t understand is why my mother would leave me with my fath—Gordy, if she knew _you_ were my father. Did you know about me?”

Holloway flinched. “Y…Yes,” he said reluctantly. “But, like you, I couldn’t be certain.”

“What about now?”

Holloway hesitated, which was worrisome. Did he doubt it? Alternate had done what he could to show he was capable and clever, bold and loyal. He’d robbed two banks and shot a famous bounty hunter. Even though the acts were ignoble and not exactly something he was proud of, it might amount to something in Holloway’s eyes. Alternate had also been compassionate and fair with the men, showing leadership and tact. He had tried to mimic Holloway in many ways. Where he felt he had failed with Gordy he had hoped to have a second chance with Holloway.

It took some time, but at last Holloway said, “You are no bastard son, because you are _my_ son.”

The moment was surreal. Alternate was afraid it was a dream, and that he’d wake up back where he started. Tears stung his eyes, and he was surprised to find Holloway’s eyes had already begun to well. Alternate’s throat constricted to where he couldn’t speak.

Holloway came forward and placed his hands on Alternate’s shoulders. “From the first day I saw you as a boy I always suspected. When you came to the Black Eagles, and I watched you, I knew for certain. I had sworn to myself that I would not abandon my children the way my father had abandoned me. Had I figured it out sooner I would have come for you sooner. I am ashamed at this failure, but I was afraid to face it.”

A fresh breeze blew down the mountain, cool and comforting. The stars glittered overhead, and crickets sang in the bushes around the two men standing together.

It was hard to believe Holloway would be afraid of anything. He had been facing dangers for most of his life, dodging lawmen and bounty hunters, and possibly other outlaws. He had done the rarest of crimes by robbing two banks, and was never afraid to stare down the barrel of a gun. But in the face of admitting a failure regarding his own son, he’d been terrified. Certainly he hadn’t been afraid to claim Alternate. Rather, he’d been afraid of the fact that he’d neglected to make a decision sooner and find Alternate when he was younger.

A question stirred in Alternate’s mind. “When were you going to say something?” he asked. “You said you were going to retire and move to Mexico.” His throat clenched again, and it took a second to recover. “You never said I could go with you.”

Holloway’s hands slipped off his shoulders. “I cannot allow that. We are safest separated.”

“Safest? We’re safest working together, defending each other. I want to go with you!” A black hole of despair opened up in Alternate’s soul, sucking out the joy he’d felt earlier. “I—I have nowhere to go, no one to go back to. I went looking for you because I didn’t want to be alone anymore!”

“What about your Indian friend?”

“I can’t go back to her village and put her people in danger. I can’t put _her_ in danger.”

“But she’s your friend. You’re not alone. It seems to me she would be quite happy if you went home with her.”

Alternate bit back his retort. Once more he had rudely forgotten about Fino, forgotten her friendship and their teamwork, and most of all forgotten how he felt about her. It was true that he didn’t want to put her in any more danger than he already had, but it was also true he couldn’t go back to her people. It a hard truth to face, but he had to face it nonetheless.

“You’re right, she is my friend,” Alternate assented, “but I just can’t go back with her. She’s innocent, I’m guilty. For you and me it’s different. We’re both guilty and it wouldn’t make our situation worse if we stuck together.” The next words made him giddy. “You’re my father, and I want to go with you.”

Holloway looked conflicted. He turned away toward the moonlit plain. The toe of his boot scraped the gravelly ground, and he focused on his feet with his hands on his hips. Alternate waited anxiously. He was afraid that if Holloway said no, he would fall to his knees sobbing like a child. It would mean the world to him if Holloway said yes. He _had_ to go with him…

Then he remembered Fino again. She was going to help him with this final task, and then he would say goodbye. The thought of it opened a floodgate of regrets: For pushing her away, for not telling her the truth, and for getting angry with her that day Blush got away. He should never have gotten angry with her. The moment she showed up at the Black Eagles’ camp he should’ve let her in on his scheme.

Alternate’s heart skipped at a sudden idea. _Would she go with me?_ If Holloway said yes, would Fino be willing to go with him to Mexico? But that would mean separating her from her family. Fino wouldn’t leave Yaghi behind, and she’d hate to leave her family. Alternate would never ask her to do that. _But I have to ask… I might be losing her forever after this._

Holloway turned back to him. “I have to tell you something,” he said, sounding diffident. “There is a reason I’m going to Mexico. I was afraid of what you might think of me if you knew.” He took a breath. “I was planning on trying to find Reselda.”

Alternate was jolted. “So you were going to look for her without me?”

Holloway cringed at his sharp tone. “I don’t know if she is alive, but I heard rumors of a _bruja_ notorious for her healing abilities. Her description sounds very much like Reselda, although it could be a simple coincidence.”

“Healing abilities?” Alternate echoed. “A _bruja_?” It took a few seconds for the word to sink in. “Wait—a witch?! That can’t be my mother!”

The outlaw leader chuckled. “It’s not what you think. The natives regard such people as healers, not evil demon-worshippers as you and I were raised to believe. Reselda was an expert on poisons and herbal medicine.”

It hurt Alternate to know Holloway was going to search for Reselda without him. But now he understood how Fino had felt when he said he was going to look for Blush without her. It wasn’t fair, and it definitely wasn’t right. It wasn’t the same doing it without her. No wonder Fino had been so upset. _How selfish I was!_

“Then please, let me come with you,” he said. “I want to find her, too. If she’s alive…” _If she’s alive… My mother might be alive._ It struck him then. Holloway—his father—was alive! _I’m not an orphan anymore. No, I was never an orphan to begin with!_

Holloway hadn’t answered yet, still trying to decide.

“Listen,” said Alternate, “I’m going to help you stop Shade and the outside connection. When we’re through, we’ll head to Mexico together—“

“You’re assuming we’ll survive the fight,” Holloway pointed out. “Do you have any idea how dangerous the outside connection is? Some say he’s a mass murderer, hardly human. He even makes me nervous _._ If it were Shade alone I believe we could handle him, but with the Captain…”

“Fino’s going to help us,” Alternate said quickly. “She knows what I want to do, and she won’t stand for someone trying to kill me.”

A suspicious look came over Holloway. “How does she know? When did you tell her?”

A panicked squeak escaped Alternate’s lips when he realized what he’d done. “I-I-I—I h-happened to mention it to her one night—“

“I never saw you speak with her.”

“Well—“

“You did it behind my back?”

“That’s not—well, yes—but I didn’t really—“

Holloway gave him a terrible scowl. “And you want to talk to me about Shade’s loyalty? You disobeyed me.”

Alternate knew how much Holloway hated disloyalty, something that likely stemmed from his broken relationship with his father. If there was one thing he wouldn’t tolerate it was disloyalty. This spelled bad news for Tony as well. Why did she think she was immune to punishment?

Squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin, Alternate tried to summon all his courage. He was in one of the most precarious positions he’d ever put himself in.

“Yes, I talked to Fino, but I had to. I had unsettled personal business with her and I wasn’t sure what you were going to do with her. I was afraid you were going to have her killed. I have _never_ been disloyal to you.

“Fino told me Shade was the whole reason the Preacher’s Kid was after us,” Alternate said. “If it hadn’t been for him, we’d still be forty strong. Shade mutilated the bounty hunter’s mother and now the Preacher’s Kid is out for justice.”

“Did you free that girl?” Holloway asked, ignoring the bit about Shade.

“No.” He wasn’t about to incriminate Tony, so he kept the topic moving. “But Fino will help us. You saw her gun. With that we won’t have any trouble with the outside connection. He’ll wet himself before he tries to fight back.”

“She has agreed to this?”

“Yes.”

A gunshot popped in the distance, followed by hoots and howls from the men. The party was still going strong. Somewhere a coyote responded to the men’s howling, and then another coyote joined them. The sky had become a lighter blue in the east, and soon Alternate wouldn’t need his lantern anymore. He had to hurry.

“That would explain why she never gave us trouble at the bank,” Holloway said with a narrowed eye. “I expected her to be there. So you two have been in collusion without me knowing?”

“Yes—I-I know it looks bad that I did it that way, but since I found out what Shade was planning I believed Fino was our best bet at helping us stop him.”

Holloway could’ve demanded more of an explanation and grilled Alternate with questions until dawn, but he said, “Not much escapes me in this outfit. Most of the men are not intelligent enough to hide anything from me. Shade was one surprise—though it’s reasonable to believe he’s a backstabber—but you are another matter. I never would have thought you’d do something like this.”

It was over. Alternate knew it was. He was going to be kicked out of the gang for disobeying orders, son or not, as Holloway wasn’t placated by the fact that this was all done to protect him. But it didn’t matter. Even if the leader commanded Alternate to return to camp immediately and pack up his belongings, he would still go to the meeting with outside connection. Nothing was going to stop him from doing that.

He steeled himself for what was coming next.

Holloway cracked a wide grin. “That’s sounds like my boy.”

The tight ropes of worry loosened around Alternate and fell away. “So you’re not angry?” he asked.

“Of course not. I am impressed by your skill, that you were able to keep everything from me for so long. You’re as foxy as I am. Only my own flesh and blood could accomplish that. And you were bold enough to risk your high status in the gang. I like that.”

Alternate blushed at the compliment. “I’m glad to hear that, sir, but…will you still let me follow you to the meeting? With Fino there, we’re almost guaranteed to win.”

“Yes,” Holloway replied with a sure nod. “No one tries to stab me the back and gets away with it.”

Alternate was so happy he wanted to hug the man, and yet despite how Holloway now claimed him as his son, he found he couldn’t do it. Settling the issue hadn’t brought them much closer to together. That would take more time, time Alternate feared they were losing.

Footsteps were heard coming toward them. The glow of a lantern appeared. Expecting Tony, Alternate turned to greet her, but his breath stuck in his throat when he saw the shadowed face of Shade standing before them.

“Here you are,” Shade said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. The men are expecting you to make some kind of speech. Absurd, I know, but they’re a tad overexcited and quite drunk.”

“Ah, I suppose I’ve neglected them long enough,” Holloway said with a sheepish smile.

“But I see you’ve been having a long discussion with our esteemed master planner. That would account for things.” Shade’s words were saturated with sarcasm. It didn’t appear he had overheard their conversation, but then again he wouldn’t make it obvious. “You’d better make it quick. The outside connection wants us at first light. Tony has his portion ready.”

Back at camp the men were as Shade had described. Most of the liquor had already been consumed. Tony sat by herself with a large sack of money at her side. The men were only interested in their own shares, counting the bundles over and over again, sniffing the bills, and gabbing about the first thing they’d blow it on. Alternate had heard so much about it already that he didn’t care to listen anymore. They continued to feed the fire with whatever fuel they could find, even dismantling the wagon. They didn’t need it anymore anyway. All that was left of the dynamite was less than half a box and no one cared to take any of it with them. It would eventually be abandoned.

When they saw Holloway they let out a cheer. He smiled at their approbation, looking smug that he had made so many thieves this happy. Alternate stood off to the side, trying to mask his apprehension over what the leader had to do next.

Holloway found a large stone to act as a stool on which to stand over his men. The light of the fire flickered over him. As he looked out over the gang, he took in their rapturous faces. They waited in eager anticipation.

“I could never have asked for a better team of dedicated ne’er-do-wells,” he began, saying last word with a grin. “We have taught the elite a lesson they will never forget. Their power doesn’t make them immune to danger, and their money cannot protect them. The Black Eagles have become a byword of catastrophe to them, but a boon to the poor. Without your help, this would not have been possible. Some have gone before us, but that has never stopped us.Even a famed bounty hunter couldn’t stop us.”

The men nodded in agreement, lifting their whiskey bottles in tribute to their leader’s words. Tony smiled proudly, too. Shade, however, looked bored.

“We are the rabble that rouses the world,” said Holloway, lifting a fist. “The elite are few, but we are many. With our combined force, we can make the rich quake, quiver, and—“

“The sun’s coming up soon,” Shade interrupted.

Holloway turned to give him a miffed glare. For a moment it appeared he might say something, but he let it go.

“As you are all well aware, this was our biggest hit yet,” he said. “But sadly, it will be our last.”

The men glanced at each other with surprise and broke out in confused murmurs. Tony stood up with her jaw hanging open, looking on in disbelief. Shade had turned white.

“My time as an outlaw has come to an end, and so must the Black Eagles. Our reputations have increased tenfold, and it’s necessary for us to separate. We’ve lingered here too long. We must flee before the law finds us. Now I must say goodbye.” Holloway stepped down from the stone before the gang could begin asking questions, and even as they surged forward to bombard him with inquiries, he ignored them.

He motioned for Shade to mount up, and took up the bag of money Tony had prepared. Her mouth still hung open, but she was speechless. She followed him to his horse, and as he swung up into the saddle she said, “But Holloway, what about me? Why are you leaving? Can’t I go with you?”

“Holloway, this isn’t necessary,” Shade tried to tell him. He held his horse by the reins but made no attempt to mount. “You don’t need to break them up. We can still do this—you still have time left to pillage the rich!”

He was beginning to panic, Alternate could see that. But unless Shade wanted to shoot Holloway down in front of the men he would have to suck it up and figure out a plan later.

The leader didn’t answer a single question, not even from Tony. Shade, at a loss, had no choice but to follow suit and mount.

Holloway was stoic as he departed, not looking back to see the baffled expressions of his men that had only minutes before been euphoric. The men trailed after him on foot. Tony stood at the back with tears brimming in her eyes. Alternate went to stand beside her.

“I know it’s a shock, but we need to get going,” he said to her in a low voice. “Holloway knows Fino will be there, too.”

“Wh-Why is he doing this?” Tony asked, still watching where their leader had left. “Why is he leaving me behind?”

“He’s not,” Alternate said. That might not be entirely true, but if Holloway agrees to let him go to Mexico, then maybe Tony could go as well. “We can talk to him about it later. We need to go or else they’ll get too far ahead of us.”

It took some coaxing, but Alternate managed to pull Tony away and get their horses. Even after Holloway and Shade had disappeared into the night, the men stood around trying to figure out what just happened. Were they so drunk they only _thought_ their leader had dismissed them? A few didn’t bother to wait and find out. They gathered their money and belongings and saddled up. If there was one thing they were sure of, it was the law coming after them. They had indeed lingered too long in this one spot.

They assumed the same of their master planner and safecracker as the two rode out into the darkness.


	41. Chapter 41

“They’re on the move,” Quincy said.

“Is it just Shade and Holloway?” Fino asked.

“Looks like it, but I saw your friend and the safecracker leave just now.”

“Then they’re going to the meeting.”

Down in the camp the men hurried to leave. Fino and Quincy had followed the outlaws from Murdoch and snuck up a different trail that led them to a perch just above the gang. With Quincy’s spyglass they were able to keep watch. Holloway had been absent for a while, and they had seen Alternate leave with a lantern. Fino had considered following but decided against it. She didn’t want to separate from Quincy, or get lost trying to find out where Alternate was going. She didn’t want to miss this. It was crucial she and her partner stick together.

“I can’t believe it,” said Quincy. “Holloway retiring? An outlaw like him usually keeps on thieving until someone shoots him—someone like me.” He grinned at his own joke until he saw Fino glaring at him. “What, you don’t want me to?”

“I don’t care what you do as long as Alternate doesn’t get hurt,” Fino replied. “But try not to kill Holloway if you plan on shooting him—or Tony.”

“Didn’t think you’d be so concerned about that man.”

“I’m not, but Alternate is.”

“How come?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Ahh, it’s that conversation you two had back in Murdoch, isn’t it?”

“Does your chest still hurt?”

Quincy shut his mouth.

“Just don’t kill Holloway or Tony,” Fino said. “If you’re going to shoot to kill, do it to Shade.”

“I don’t plan to,” the bounty hunter said. “Remember, I prefer to maim, not kill.”

“Ugh, you’re just like someone I used to know.”

“Who would that be?”

“A friend of mine. She hated killing people above all. I can understand her position, but I believe there are times when killing is necessary. I don’t see the point in keeping Shade alive. You’d have to drag him back to Murdoch and he might fight you all the way there.”

“I’ve made my decision.”

Fino supposed he’d done it enough times to know how to handle it. Whether Shade was shot and killed tonight or hung later didn’t make a difference, but it’d be a hassle to haul a live outlaw over several miles back to town.

She scoffed. “I wish Lobo had come. We could use the extra help.”

“I wanted Sticky and Lobo to stay behind,” Quincy reminded her. They had discussed it long before they left Murdoch. “If anything happens to me, I want them to take care of my parents.”

Fino sighed. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

They swung up onto their horses to leave.

While in Murdoch they had stayed out of sight of the outlaws, knowing the men were searching for Fino. The two of them waited down the street from the bank, but when the dynamite was detonated they had to rush to find cover. Neither of them had expected so much of it to be used, nor did they anticipate the building that was set ablaze. They had been tempted to help the townsfolk put the fire out and help anyone trapped in the rubble, but they had to keep an eye on the outlaws. There hadn’t been a time when Fino had so hated herself. She even resented Quincy, but she had been the one to convince him of this plan. There were injured and panicked people, and the guards at the bank had tried to fight the outlaws waiting outside, but two were shot down and the others fled.

The people had still been fighting the blaze by the time the outlaws poured out of the bank with bags of money. The last to leave had been Holloway and Alternate. After that, Fino and Quincy followed after them. For a moment Fino had almost considered turning back to help the townspeople or using the Zodiac to stop the Black Eagles, but she willed herself to stay with the plan.

 _This was a huge mistake. I was letting people get hurt._ Had it really been worth it? It had better be for what Alternate wanted to tell her. It’d better be _good_. If not, she was going to throw a fit he would remember for the rest of his life.

In the light of early dawn Fino and Quincy were able to keep track of Holloway and Shade’s movements. Their path led down the mountain and into the valley. Once out on the plain, the two outlaws picked up their pace, forcing Fino and her partner to spur their horses faster. Hellfire was a fast horse, giving Fino some difficulty in staying alongside Quincy. She worried her horse might tire long before his.

They traveled for an hour before Quincy lifted his fist to signal a stop. They’d been moving northeast alongside the mountains and crested a low hill. Keeping a distance from Holloway and Shade had been a key in staying undetected, but the two outlaws stopped about a half-mile from where Fino and Quincy stood on the hill. The bounty hunter immediately backed his horse out of view behind the crest, and Fino did the same. The sun had risen now, and fingers of warm light were beginning to expand over the desert.

“I haven’t seen Alternate or Tony,” Fino said. She was usually good at catching anyone following her, but even here in open valley she hadn’t been able to sight her friend. She’d let Quincy lead the way while she kept watch for the other two. Hopefully they hadn’t gotten lost, or given up on the plan. For a few uneasy moments she wondered if perhaps Alternate had decided to run away with Tony instead, but that was absurd. This plan was too important to him, and so was Holloway.

Quincy said nothing of her comment. He dismounted and cautiously went to the top of the hill. After looking through his spyglass, he said, “There’s someone else with them.”

“How many?” Fino asked.

“Only one, with a horse. He’s bold to come alone. I thought maybe he’d bring along a comrade.”

“You said he could kill several people at once. I’m sure Holloway and Shade don’t bother him much.”

“True... Ah!”

“What?”

“I see your friends. They’re ahead of us and to the south of Holloway.”

“How far?”

“Half-mile, same as Holloway, but closer to him than we are. They might strike before we can get a chance.”

“Then I should get closer before things get bad.” She didn’t know how far the Zodiac could shoot. She’d seen a bullet fly a considerable distance, but not a half-mile. If a bullet never missed its target, then perhaps it could fly until it did hit the target, no matter how far.

“I want to see,” Fino said as she held her hand out for the spyglass.

Alternate and Tony were standing behind a tall, weathered boulder. If they moved from that spot they would be easy to see from where Holloway stood. The two were peering around the boulder, their guns out and ready.

Fino turned the spyglass on the outlaws. Holloway stayed in the saddle while Shade took the bag of money and went to hand it to the outside connection. Fino almost dropped the spyglass. Her hands gripped it to where it could’ve broken apart in her fingers. Quincy put a hand on her shoulder.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Th-That’s…” Her arms trembled. “That’s _Blush_!”

“Who? Wait, that man you said killed your parents?”

“H-He’s the outside connection!” It was like she was seeing a mirage, she couldn’t believe it. His blond hair and sunglasses were unmistakable. He was grinning in his usual arrogant way. “He was with the Syndicate, and how he sells weapons!”

“Syndicate?” Quincy mumbled. “I seem to recall that name from somewhere…”

“They fell apart a few months ago,” Fino explained. Her voice shook. “That’s why you said ‘the Captain’ had only been at this for a few months.”

Blush must’ve been doing other work in addition to selling weapons, but this was likely his biggest source of income. There was no knowing how much money was in the bag. Having been in the military, and having had access to technology used by the Syndicate, Blush knew all about weapons and how to get them. It wasn’t surprising he’d found a niche in the black market after the Syndicate was dismantled.

“This is unbelievable,” Fino breathed. “This is what Alternate wanted to tell me! He knew where Blush was this whole time!” And now he wanted her to help him catch Blush. He needed her and the Zodiac because it was the only way they could gain the upper hand. How had he planned on doing this without her before?

“Blush has two guns that can shoot twelve bullets in a single shot,” Fino told Quincy. She handed him back the spyglass. “That’s how he killed my parents, how he killed Alternate’s father, and how he’s able to kill so many people at once.”

Quincy raised his eyebrows. “Interesting. I just thought he was insanely fast.”

“He _is_. Only my gun is faster.”

“Even more interesting.”

Now she understood why Alternate needed her help. Before knowing of Shade’s treachery, Alternate may have planned on biding his time until the right opportunity, but now the stakes were higher. Holloway was in the crosshairs, and Alternate wasn’t going to stand by any longer.

Fino was going for some Scorpio essence in her saddlebag when a gunshot cracked in the distance. The horses jerked. With the pouch of scorpions in hand, Fino swung up into the saddle and spurred her horse onward at a gallop. Quincy had been in the process of loading the Lead Messenger when he shouted at her in protest, trying to grab the horse’s reins to stop her. She darted past him without seeing if he would follow. She couldn’t afford to wait for him. In the distance, Alternate and Tony were on the move, rushing to the scene.

It wasn’t obvious who had shot first. The bag of money was on the ground, and Blush had his guns out along with Shade. Holloway’s horse reared up, a large gleaming revolving in the man’s hand. He aimed it at Shade, but they were interrupted by Alternate and Tony plowing through their ambush. Panic gripped Fino. She was still far, and she hadn’t been able to load the Zodiac with essence. She fumbled with the pouch and tried to hold onto her seat.

More shots split the air. Tony went down. Someone laughed, and there was another shot. Holloway’s horse bucked and threw him from the saddle. The other horses fled. Fino lifted the Zodiac and put a bead on Blush.

The bullet blazed forward, making the air shimmer in its wake. It zoomed low to the ground, and as it came close to Blush it bounced up. Stunned by this familiar sight Blush was rooted to the spot. Then at the last second he dodged it, throwing himself to the side. The bullet exploded in the ground where he had been, sending up an eruption of dirt and rocks.

This stopped the chaos for a moment as everyone stared at the crater where the bullet had struck. Blush rolled to his back and looked to see the black scar in the earth. Fino kept her horse moving. She lifted the Zodiac again, but Blush scrambled to his feet and took a wild aim in her direction. The bullets spat harmlessly around her. She pulled the trigger.

The light was so bright Fino had a hard time determining if her aim was true. There was another explosion and dust scattered. The remaining horses screamed and darted away, leaving their riders stranded and without a means of escape. Someone spouted a curse, but the words were garbled and the voice’s owner indeterminable.

At last she reached her destination and didn’t wait to come to a complete stop. Her horse skidded and she leaped from her saddle, stumbling but landing on her feet. With the Zodiac aimed and ready again, she halted and kept her aim on where she had seen Blush go down. A gust of wind swept away the dirty cloud around her and exposed Blush lying prone in a blackened crater with smoke rising around him. He was a strong one, though. He could get up again at any second. Fino thought about shooting him again while he was down just to buy time, but even in her revenge-driven mindset she knew that would be too cruel, though he sorely deserved it. She would not sink that low.

“Alternate!” she called. “Alternate, are you all right?”

No answer. The world had gone quiet and still. Either the others were too stunned to speak, or they were all dead. Fino figured it had to be the former. “Answer me!” she yelled.

“I’m… I’m okay,” Alternate replied somewhere behind her. His voice cracked. “But I—I don’t know…”

Fino tore her eyes away from Blush. Alternate was kneeling beside Holloway on the ground. Tony had hobbled over with a hand pressed to her hip. She stood over them with tangled hair and a pale face.

“Where’s Shade?” Fino demanded.

Tony pointed ahead of her. Shade was on foot running through the desert, his horse long since escaped. He looked like a true coward as he fled, looking back often. Fino meant to shoot him down with the Zodiac but stopped. On the hill where she had left him, Quincy sat on his horse. Sunlight glinted on the golden barrel of the Lead Messenger.

Shade jerked about and fell on his back, shrieking and clutching his bloody shoulder. Red spray coated the ground under him. When he stood again and staggered away, another bullet pierced his other shoulder, toppling him. But the outlaw was determined, and desperate. He pushed himself up and got three more steps before another impact ruptured his left leg. Shade wasn’t so stupid to try again. He curled up on the ground and wept.

As Quincy took his sweet time coming toward them, Fino went over to Blush and found his guns. After taking those she searched his clothes for other weapons, finding two knives and a small pistol. If he awoke, he was now outgunned, so she felt comfortable leaving him there. He wouldn’t get far if he tried to run.

Alternate had a hand firmly pressed to Holloway’s abdomen with blood soaking the man’s shirt and leaking through Alternate’s fingers. Tears streamed down his face as he watched Holloway struggle. Tony knelt with them, making no effort to keep the tears at bay.

“Shade got him,” Alternate said to Fino as she stepped up to them. She crouched next to Holloway and pried Alternate’s hand away from the wound. A gut wound. Fino had seen similar wounds among the warriors in her village. Holloway was slated to die slowly and horribly, but it appeared his life was fading fast. The bullet had likely struck a major artery and he was bleeding out. Even if they got him to Murdoch in time to see a doctor, his chances of survival were nonexistent. But looking at Alternate, Fino’s heart broke. She had never seen him cry before. The tears made streaks down his dusty face and fell in large drops. He knew what was going to happen.

Holloway’s breathing became labored. He placed a bloodied hand to Alternate’s cheek, but said nothing. He smiled weakly, looking as if he wanted to say something but the words wouldn’t come. Blood continued to pour from the wound despite efforts to stem it.

Alternate choked on a sob and his body shook. “N-No. You can’t die. I just found you!” He pressed his face against Holloway’s shoulder. “Don’t leave me.”

Tony covered her mouth and started weeping.

 _There’s nothing I can do_ , Fino thought. She could only watch helplessly. _What do I do? There’s no way to save Holloway._

Alternate’s face was contorted with grief as if Holloway were already dead. She couldn’t stand to see him so devastated. It was the way she had been when she found her parents’ corpses in their tipi. It was a loss so great she never thought it possible to experience it again. And yet here Alternate was, getting a second dose. It was unbearable to watch. _I want to help him. I want to help…_

A sharp chord hummed in her bones, coursing down her arms to the tips of her fingers. Heat warmed her riding gauntlets and seared her palm, making Fino drop the Zodiac Gun on the ground where it glowed in the sand.

 _A Virgo bullet?_ How was a Virgo bullet supposed to help? Fino was hesitant at first, remembering how the bullet had knocked back the men who had tried to kill Quincy. It was an aggressive bullet. Something like that might kill Holloway in his current state. But the gun wouldn’t be responding like this if the circumstances weren’t right. She had to try it.

Fino picked it up and stood back, taking careful aim at Holloway. If this didn’t work, and instead made things worse, she would hate herself for the rest of her life. _I trusted Alternate, and now I need to trust you, Zodiac Gun. Please, help Holloway._

Bracing herself the trigger clicked under her finger. The gun bucked, and the most peculiar thing happened. The bullet curved upwards into the sky with a bright and misty tail. A bullet from the Zodiac had never done _that_ before.

Alternate and Tony were startled out of their misery.

“Wha—What are you doing?!” Alternate said shrilly. “Are you trying to shoot him?!”

The bullet took a nosedive, driving for Holloway’s wound to become stream of light as it entered the hole. Holloway’s body lit up in a white glow, and the wound closed up and the blood vanished. The stream of light thinned and evaporated. The scene had been so quick that Fino might’ve missed it had she blinked.

Fino dropped the Zodiac. She’d had this gun for months and had become familiar with its powers, but just now it had done something she never thought possible. The Virgo bullet had shown two different behaviors, but why?

As if he didn’t quite believe it, Alternate tore open Holloway’s shirt to find the injury gone. The man sat up, feeling significantly better. He examined where the wound had been and looked to Fino with uncertainty of what just happened.

“You’re okay,” Alternate said as he probed for Holloway’s wound. “It’s gone!”

The tears were still fresh on Tony’s face as she beamed up at Fino. “You saved his life. I didn’t know your gun could heal, too.”

“Neither did I,” replied Fino. She shook her head as she gaped at the gun. “I-I never knew…”

“The Zodiac has a healing bullet?” Alternate said with awe.

Everyone always thought the Eto Guns were supposed to be destructive, even though they weren’t lethal. The only essence Fino could think of that wasn’t destructive was Aquarius, which had created a protective barrier using the essence of a jar. None of the bullets had ever shown healing effects, though. She realized now how many more secrets it held, and she wondered if she would ever know them all.

“That was quite a show,” Quincy said, jarring them from their joy and bemusement. He’d just arrived and sat leaning forward in his saddle, appearing unperturbed by what he just witnessed. “But I hate to spoil the celebration. We’ve got some bounties to take in, and I don’t think one of my prizes is going to last much longer. I don’t think that trick you just pulled will work on him, either.”

Shade was still curled up on the ground groaning, and Blush hadn’t moved at all.

Quincy reached into his saddle bags and produced three pairs of manacles. “We can rope the other two, but these pretties are for you,” he said, nodding at Alternate, Tony, and Holloway. “And if any of you even think of trying to escape, we won’t have much trouble stopping you. Isn’t that right, Fino?”

“Wh-What?” Fino said. Her mind was still reeling from the Virgo bullet and it took a few seconds for his words to sink in.

“You’re arresting us?!” Alternate blurted. “I thought you were here to help us?”

Quincy gave a sly smile. “I _was_ here to help you, but now the gig is up.” He jangled the manacles and looked to Fino.

Her heart sank when she realized what she had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How would the Virgo bullet work? This bullet seems the most mysterious out of all of them, in my opinion. From the notes at the end of Volume 9, it seems like there was a lot of potential to explore the bullets’ capabilities. It would’ve been nice to have a sequel that did this. I suppose we’ll have to settle for fanfiction. ;)


	42. Chapter 42

News of five captured outlaws connected to the bank robbery spread through Murdoch like wildfire. The people left the rubble to race down the main road and greet the bounty hunter and Indian girl who led the outlaws toward the jail. A blond girl, rumored to be the Black Eagles’ safecracker, rode on a black stallion, the side of her skirt caked in blood. Another man in dirtied white clothes, bloody shoulders, and a bloody leg was being toted on a dapple-gray horse. A third blond man, tall and muscular, sulked toward the back of the line with black smudges all over his body and bruises on his face. Three had their wrists cuffed in heavy iron manacles, while two of the men were tightly bound with ropes. The townsfolk whispered behind their hands, and a few children tried to throw rocks at the prisoners until their parents scolded them to stop.

The people spoke in awe of Holloway, recalling his generous donations of stolen money. They recognized his face from the wanted posters and wanted to get a closer look at the real man. He was unresponsive to their stares and comments, however. He looked straight ahead, holding his head high with pride. The young man behind him was the opposite, hanging his head low with shame.

When they passed the bank, the tellers were busy picking up pieces of debris and discussing what had happened to their boss. The owner, Remmington McCall, was in bad shape. His condition was critical, and he’d been at the doctor’s all night getting the bullets removed from his legs and shoulder. They noted the similarity with the outlaw sitting on the dapple-gray, but no one yet figured Quincy was responsible for that.

Although the sheriff’s office had been destroyed by dynamite, there was a large jailhouse that stood separate down the street next to the courthouse. The outlaws were taken there and isolated in separate cells and not allowed any visitors. Rumors spread that there would be no trials and that Judge Eli Alverado would sentence them all to hang within a week. Once the prisoners were secure in their cells, Quincy sent off a telegram to Golden for Sheriff Dawson. He was going to keep his word to Fino.

She would not speak with the bounty hunter for two whole days. Quincy had spared her the grief of having to chain Alternate, but he also denied her the pleasure of tying Blush, saying he was afraid she’d lose her cool and brain the outlaw with the first sizeable rock she found. Though they’d had to rouse Blush from the crater and drag him back to the others, he later became lively and put up a fight. Initially they had Holloway, Alternate, and Blush traveling in a row until Blush pounced on Alternate and tried to strangle him. The outlaw got a taste of Holloway’s foot, though, and then got a mouthful of Quincy’s rifle. Blush had backed down, knowing he’d been seconds away from having the back of his head blown off. He was removed from the line and trailed along behind Quincy on foot. Fino took up the rear, her gun ready in case there was more trouble.

But Fino was mostly angry that Quincy had arrested everyone instead of just Blush and Shade. She did not think it necessary to cuff Alternate or Tony, but she wasn’t certain she trusted Holloway. She had saved his life with the Zodiac, but that was no guarantee he would cooperate. They were leading him to his execution. He had also ordered Shade to torture her, so he was no friend of hers.

Fino’s thoughts were never far from Alternate. She wanted to go see him, but the sheriff of Murdoch wouldn’t allow it. The man feared a lynch mob above all else and wanted to keep visitors to a minimum. Her heart ached to see her friend. She remembered how miserable he looked when Quincy cuffed him. He apologized to her over and over again about everything, and though he was vocal for most of the trip, Blush had been silent. That man had the biggest mouth Fino had ever seen on a human being, big enough to fit all the countless lies he liked to tell, but his silence made her uncomfortable. He had to be plotting something, and it wasn’t to strangle Alternate. Yet after the incident he didn’t try anything again. Fino refused to believe he had given up.

While the prisoners languished in their cells, Quincy removed himself from the spotlight and rested at a hotel. He had kept up an appearance of health and strength during the pursuit of the outlaws, but once the prisoners were booked Fino noticed he looked wan again. She still worried about his wellbeing even though she was angry with him. Part of her was torn between wanting to see him and wanting to see Alternate.

On the afternoon of the third day, Fino had company. She was sitting in her camp on the hill overlooking Murdoch when Sticky and Lobo arrived to see how she was doing. It was obvious Quincy had sent them.

“I bet he’s rolling in his money now,” Fino quipped bitterly. She sat on her blankets, looking down at the town as people buzzed about with excitement over the recent events. Whenever she ventured down to hear news, the stories always changed. One minute the outlaws were going to be hanged within an hour, and the next minute there would be a trial that would last for months. Another rumor went around that one of the outlaws had committed suicide, but Fino was able to confirm with the sheriff that this was false. The outlaws were alive and well, and those with injuries had received proper treatment.

Lobo invited himself to sit with her, and Sticky followed. “Ahh, he only took what was due him,” Lobo said. He fished in his soiled jacket and produced a wad of cash, setting it down in front of her. “This is your share.”

Fino was indifferent. She didn’t know how much was there, nor did she care. She had no use for white men’s money.

“For what?” she asked. “He’s the bounty hunter, not me.”

“For catching that other man,” Lobo replied. “He said you were the one who shot him.”

“I did, but I didn’t do it for money. I don’t want it.”

“But he says it’s yours.”

“I don’t want it, so give it back to him.”

“They brought back some of the money from the bank, you know.”

“Good. I hope they find the rest of it.”

“Haha! Fat chance. Those Black Eagles are everywhere now. Holloway sent them scattering. The law will never catch them all.”

“Doesn’t matter to me. Do you know if Sheriff Dawson has arrived yet?”

Lobo nodded. “He came in last night.”

Fino perked up. “Have you heard anything yet?”

“Nope. Though some are saying the judge will hang all the prisoners.”

“That’s all I’ve been hearing, too,” Fino said, her heart withering. “I should’ve known better to think…”

“Than to think Quincy could help you?” Lobo said. He looked disappointed that she’d say so. “He saved me from the noose once.”

“You were an outlaw?” Fino knew next to nothing about Lobo and never guessed anything about his background.

“Oh, not so much an outlaw as a _vagabundo_ with a bad reputation. I wandered and got myself caught up in some things I should not have. I helped the boss once and he convinced the judge to let me go as long as I worked with him.”

“I see…”

“He wants to speak with you,” Lobo said.

“Then he should’ve come himself,” Fino grumbled.

“He’s feeling too poorly. That long walk to Murdoch was too much on him. I tried to warn him, but…”

Fino sighed. If Quincy wasn’t feeling well enough, then she ought to go see him. Knowing he was feeling sick again made her fret, too. But she still wanted to see Alternate. There was no way she could get into the jailhouse by herself. Quincy might be her only ticket. Earlier he had been ushered away into the temporary office of the sheriff to receive the reward money, so she hadn’t been able to use his influence to get into the jailhouse. No one seemed to care that she was also involved in bringing in the outlaws.

“All right, then,” she said, and got up to follow the others back to town.

 

* * *

 

Quincy’s fever had returned not long after arriving in Murdoch. The sheriff had noted his discomfort and inquired about it, but Quincy had waved away his concern, saying it was just fatigue from the long trip to town. As soon as he made it to the hotel, however, he’d gone to bed and found it difficult to get up again. He only had enough strength to meet with Sheriff Dawson and the judge, but it was fleeting and soon he had to rest. Lobo and Sticky became worried and called for a doctor. They brought in the last person Quincy expected: His father.

Boris had looked down at him with fierce disapproval, but he was also anxious. Travelers to the station told the story of a bank robbery in Murdoch and the bounty hunter who had caught the perpetrators. Boris had then rushed to Murdoch, leaving the station in the hands of a trusted friend who just so happened to come along by sheer luck. What bothered Quincy most, however, was that his mother had also come along. He hadn’t wanted to tell her about Shade just yet, not until the execution date was set.

While his mother sat and watched, Boris finished up cleaning and sanitizing Quincy’s stitched wound. The old man clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“You left too soon,” Boris remarked to his son. “You should’ve stayed.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Quincy said. “I said I captured Shade. If I had stayed at home I wouldn’t have had the chance to shoot him!”

Boris wrung out a wet wash cloth into a basin. “We’ve told you time and again,” he said evenly. “We don’t care about Shade. Let him go. All we want is for you to be home. You’ve been at this since before you were twenty.”

Quincy had to bite his tongue to keep from responding. He could never understand why his parents never wanted him to get justice for what Shade did to them, especially to his mother. They figured that the law would eventually catch up to Shade—and it did, except if it hadn’t been for Quincy the outlaw would still be at large. They also liked to use the excuse that God would take revenge. Quincy didn’t see why God couldn’t use _him_ to make it happen.

“But what’s done is done,” Boris added. “No need to keep going. Your mother and I would like you to come back to the station with us.”

Delora nodded in agreement.

“I’ve got business with the judge,” Quincy said. “I have to help Fino get her friend pardoned.”

“That boy who shot you?” Boris said with raised brows. “That boy who deceived your mother and I? I don’t see why you need to help him.”

“He never did anything to either of you.”

“He shot you,” Delora chimed in with a quivering voice. She brought a handkerchief to her mouth and looked about to cry.

“He did it under someone else’s orders.” It was a weak argument. Though Alternate was in the gang for reasons other than robbery, it would be difficult to convince anyone else that the kid wasn’t in it for the payoff. Negotiations with the judge, even with Dawson’s help, were going to be a challenge. Alternate had been with the gang during the robbery and never turned back. He was guilty in the eyes of the law.

The argument also did nothing to soothe his parents over how Alternate and Tony deceived them and shot their son.

“Don’t be quick to pass judgement,” Quincy admonished gently. “He had a reason for doing all he did.”

“You forgive him?” Delora asked.

“Yes.”

His parents exchanged surprised glances. Of all people they were the ones who taught Quincy about the importance of forgiveness. He wasn’t certain, but it seemed Delora held no animosity toward Shade, though she still feared him and had nightmares from time to time. Their attitude toward Alternate was hypocritical. But they believed in justice as much as forgiveness. If Alternate robbed a bank, and intended to kill their son, then they believed he needed to be punished. Not much Quincy could say would change that.

“Then we can let that sheriff from Golden do the negotiatin’ for ya,” Boris said. “You should have bedrest.”

With some encouragement, Boris got Delora to leave the room with the promise of a good meal. Ever since Quincy left the station she’d been too stressed to eat. Quincy started feeling guilty about the discourtesy of leaving of the station against their wishes.

He leaned back in bed and groaned at the pain. The fever had gone down somewhat, but it would return with a vengeance to match Fino’s. She had suddenly disappeared, and no one seemed to know where she had run off to. With Alternate in jail she wouldn’t have gone very far. So he sent Lobo and Sticky to find her. He knew she was angry with him, and he knew why. The girl had assumed only Shade and Blush would be arrested and never considered the others needed to be arrested as well. They were outlaws with bounties, and it was Quincy’s obligation as a bounty hunter to take them in. He wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to collect five bounties, though he had to hold off on Alternate’s until the judge made a decision.

There was a knock at the door. Suspecting his parents had returned for something, Quincy told them the door was open. Fino poked her head through. He sat up immediately and tried to close his shirt, but Fino saw the bruised and reddened wound before he could conceal it.

“You _are_ still sick,” she said as she came into the room. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“For the same reason you never complained about your wounds,” Quincy replied. “I had something I needed to get done and I couldn’t let it stop me. I didn’t think you’d come. I thought you were mad at me.”

“I am,” said Fino, though she didn’t look it. Quincy had buttoned his shirt but she kept glancing at where she had seen his wound. She was concerned for him. How cute.

“I have a slight fever but I’ll be fine,” he said to assure her. “My parents were here just now.”

“I know. I saw them.”

“Where have you been?”

“Camped outside of town.”

“You should be in a hotel. I can put you up.”

“Thanks, but I’m more comfortable away from people right now.”

Quincy peered at her. “You haven’t seen Alternate yet, have you?”

Fino shook her head. “They won’t let me into the jailhouse.” She paused. “Can you…get me in?”

“Is that why you came here?” Quincy asked with a cynical smile. “And here I thought you were worried about me.”

Fino blushed. “I-I am! I think it’s good you’re getting rest. But I can’t rest until I’ve talked with Alternate and I know he’s going be released.”

“We’re working on that right now. But I can’t exactly get up and go talk to the sheriff. You’ll have to talk to Sheriff Dawson about getting into the jailhouse.”

Fino went to sit on the edge of the bed, her mind working over something. She pulled the Zodiac Gun from its holster and fiddled with it before she spoke. “I don’t understand,” she said softly. “It healed Holloway, but it never healed you.” She looked regretful. “I wish I’d had it in hand that day I found you shot.”

Quincy didn’t know what to say about that since he knew very little about the gun’s powers. “But I’m here anyway. You didn’t need the gun.”

“I know, but…” Fino squeezed her eyes shut. “It could’ve made things so much easier. You wouldn’t be sitting here like this.”

Quincy touched her shoulder. “You’re doing it again. You need to stop beating yourself up. Doing that won’t change anything. I’m here and I’m going to be fine. I didn’t need your gun to help me. I needed _you_.”

Fino became shy at his words, her eyes darting to the floor. Whorls of color spread over her cheeks. “I-I know…”

“Maybe Holloway was healed because he was dying,” Quincy suggested. “I wasn’t dying. I just needed protection from the men trying to kill me.”

The girl gripped the gun as she thought about it. “I’m not sure. And it’s not like I can experiment with it…” She looked up at him intently.

“Don’t you even think about it,” Quincy said. “I’m getting along just fine with regular treatment.”

“If your fever gets any worse, I’m going to do it!” said Fino. Her eyes flashed with determination.

Quincy brought a hand to his forehead. “Well, we won’t have to worry about that.”

“Let me check.” Fino reached forward to touch his head, but Quincy pulled back.

“No, no, no, no. You need to go talk to Alternate, remember? Sheriff Dawson is at the courthouse just down the street. It’s a huge building, it’s hard to miss. Tell him I said you should be allowed in.”

Fino relented. Without another word she stood from the bed and walked toward the door. Quincy breathed a sigh of relief, but the air hadn’t yet left his lungs when Fino rushed back and forced a hand to his forehead. She kept him in a tight hold to prevent him from squirming away.

“You’re burning up!” she said.

Quincy struggled against her. “Just let me be!”

Laughter bubbled out from the doorway. Lobo clutched his belly as he giggled, and Sticky covered his mouth to hide his smile. Quincy was finally able to push Fino away, his face flushed, and not from the fever.

“You said you wanted to go talk to Alternate, now go,” he told her. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m coming right back here when I’m done,” she replied. With that she left, telling Lobo to give her an update upon her return.

The big man couldn’t stop grinning from what he saw, and Sticky had a knowing look on his face.

Quincy huffed. “You’d think after all the whining and agonizing she did over that kid she’d be clawing up the walls of the jailhouse to get in, not bugging me!”

“Maybe she loves you more than him,” Lobo said, showing his yellow teeth.

“Don’t even joke about that,” said Quincy. “She wouldn’t go through all this trouble just to change her mind in the end.”

“You never know. Oralee changed her mind. So did you.”

The statement hit Quincy squarely in the heart. “Wh-What do you mean by that?”

“Boss, you think you are sneaky, but you are not as sneaky as I. Oralee loved you, and then she didn’t love you. For you, it was the other way around.”

Quincy wanted to deny it, but that would be giving Lobo too much credit. “I don’t know why we’re talking about this,” he said gruffly.

“Do not think I didn’t see that look you gave her the last time we left,” said Lobo with the waggle of his finger.

“Well, it’s not relevant anymore. It’s over.”

Lobo didn’t appear convinced, but he didn’t say anything more about it. The big man was more intuitive than Quincy had thought. Quincy’s pride often got in the way of recognizing his more tender sensibilities. He didn’t like to admit them. The look he had given Oralee before leaving Silver Ridge hadn’t been as secretive as he had wanted.

“I’m positive the judge will give Alternate some leniency,” he said to change the topic. In a mutter he added, “Maybe life in prison.”

“Keep an eye on the girl,” said Lobo. “That gun of hers—she can bust him out of jail if she doesn’t get her way.”

Quincy loathed the idea of having to track the both of them down if that happened, but he was sure Fino wouldn’t try something so drastic.

But he wasn’t certain what Alternate’s fate would be.

 

* * *

 

At that moment, Alternate was wondering about the same thing. The cell he was locked in was small and dirty, with only a straw mattress for a bed and a bucket to do his business in. The mattress was on the floor, and Alternate didn’t want to use it because of how filthy it was, spotted with all sorts of mysterious stains. He huddled in the corner of his cell, far from the bars and as far as he could get from the mattress, which he noticed had a raunchy odor in addition to its coloring. At least he could be thankful for the coolness the cell provided. The deputies and jailer would complain about how hot it had been outside every time they brought him his bread and water.

Alternate hadn’t seen or heard from any of his comrades. Each cell had solid stone walls separating each other. No one had been placed across from him in the block, and no one answered him when he called out. The building was two stories tall, so the others had to be on the upper level. But why had Alternate been isolated from them?

Sleep was elusive. Since he refused to sleep on the mattress, Alternate had to sleep on the hard floor with only a thin blanket to keep him warm. For two days he thought of only two things: where Fino was, and what was going to happen to Holloway and Tony. Sometimes he forgot about Blush. This whole ordeal had been about finding him. But fear and uncertainty overwhelmed any feelings of revenge Alternate had harbored before, which seemed to render pointless the entire journey. At times he would realize Blush was somewhere in a cell just above his head, but then he’d be overcome with helplessness to do anything about it. So he preferred to forget about it for now. That dangerous man was locked away in a cell and wouldn’t be going anywhere.

Alternate’s throat hurt where Blush had tried to strangle him. The bruises were obvious. He had thought his neck would snap, but Holloway had come to his rescue, and, surprisingly, the Preacher’s Kid. Fino had tried to pry Blush off, but she was too small and considerably weaker. Blush said little during the attack, only that he should’ve sent Alternate to the grave right after Gordy. After that, the man went silent. It bothered Alternate and made him nervous. _Maybe he’s come to accept that this is the end for him._ But somehow that didn’t seem right. Blush wasn’t the type to just accept defeat.

Earlier a man calling himself a lawyer came in to speak with Alternate, but Alternate didn’t want to talk to anyone. He listened to the lawyer’s spiel, but when he didn’t respond the man gave up and went upstairs to see the others. _There’s no way anyone can save me. I’ll be dead by the end of the week, and so will Tony and Holloway._ They would likely be executed together, alongside Shade and Blush. Never in his wildest dreams had Alternate thought he would be hung beside Blush. At first the thought infuriated him. _I’m nothing like him! He’s a murderer!_ But then he would remember the bank and the people he had robbed, and all the other things he had done in his past. _Maybe I deserve it. I’ve done more bad than good. I can’t reverse the damage I’ve done._ At least Blush was in jail, right? And soon he would be executed and at last Alternate could have justice and closure. Yet…he wanted to live. He had to find out what happened to his mother.

On the third day of being stuck in jail, someone came into the block. Alternate expected either the sheriff and his deputies, or the lawyer. He stayed in his corner and waited, resting his head between his knees and resolving not to speak. Someone stepped to the front of his cell and didn’t say anything. Alternate lifted his head after a short period of silence. The man before him was a stranger, dressed in a checkered shirt with an unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth. His mustache and red hair were a few shades brighter than the bounty hunter’s.

The man took the cigarette out of his mouth. “Well, so you’re Alternate? I was beginning to wonder if maybe you were just a fairy tale.”

“Who the heck are you?” Alternate demanded. A fairy tale? What was this guy talking about?

“Name’s Dawson, the sheriff of Golden. I’m sure you recall that place.”

It took a moment to remember. “Yeah…”

“I’m also negotiating your release.”

“I thought the bounty hunter was doing that?”

“He is, partly. Only it’s the favor the judge owes _me_ , not him.”

“What do you mean?”

Dawson motioned for someone down the block to come forward. When Fino stood before the bars, Alternate jumped up and ran to her. He wrapped his hands around hers on the bars.

“Fino, what’s going on? No one tells me anything,” Alternate said. “Is Holloway all right? What about Tony?”

“I don’t know,” Fino replied. She looked relieved to see him, smiling at him in that way he loved so much. He supposed he wasn’t in very good shape because she took in his appearance and was troubled. He hadn’t groomed himself in almost three days, and he wasn’t usually the type to let himself go.

“I can’t believe they’re keeping you in this filthy cell,” Fino said, glancing to the space beyond the bears.

“Where else are they gonna put ‘im?” Dawson cut in. “All the cells here are like this.”

“They could let him go,” Fino snapped back. “When are you going to get that judge to pardon him?”

“It ain’t as easy as it sounds. All those lawyers have been hogging him since before I got here. And I’m going to have a hard defense to sell. That story you told me might not sound very believable to Judge Alverado.”

“I have a witness,” Fino said. “Quincy can vouch for me, and so can Tony and Holloway. Alternate never meant to harm anyone. He infiltrated the Black Eagles to capture a dangerous outlaw. He was never really one of them!”

“Yeah,” Dawson said as he scratched at his head. “But he’s not exactly a lawman, you know.”

“It shouldn’t matter.”

“Well, it kind of does.”

“Fino,” said Alternate, “is there any way you can get Holloway and Tony free, too?”

At this Dawson actually laughed. “I will admit you have a better chance than those two. They’re career criminals, and they’ve been wanted for a long time. I won’t argue for them.”

“But you have to! Holloway’s my father, and Tony’s my friend, too. She’s not a bad person. She’s had to survive since she was orphaned. Holloway has, too. He’s not your typical outlaw. The real criminals here are Blush and Shade!”

Dawson’s brows came down as he considered Alternate’s plea. “That doesn’t change much, but it might help give the girl a more lenient sentence if we can garner some sympathy from the judge. Holloway, on the other hand…”

A sound came then, like hammers on wood. The noise drifted through a window down the block, and as Alternate listened he knew what it was. They were constructing a gallows outside the jailhouse. His heart skipped a beat.

“ _Please_ , you have to spare Holloway and Tony,” he begged.

The sheriff was becoming annoyed. “I’ll mention something to the judge, but don’t expect anything. I’m not a lawyer, and I don’t plan on being yours _._ There’s a whole hoard of them for your use. One of them tried to talk to you and said you were pretty tight-lipped. That won’t help you none.”

“I don’t want to talk to a lawyer,” Alternate whined.

Dawson bit down on his cigarette and turned to Fino. “You deal with him. I’ve had enough of his blubbering. If I stick around any longer I may end up hanging him myself!”

After the sheriff stomped out of the jail, the block was left with the sound of the hammers. Fino had looked troubled earlier, but now the dread crept into her features.

“They’re not going to be able to help me, are they?” Alternate asked with a tremor in his voice.

“I-I don’t know,” Fino replied. “You have to talk to one of those men—one of those lawyers. If Dawson says they can help you, then…“

They both went quiet as they looked at each other. Now more than ever Alternate wanted to hold her. Fino was surprised as he reached through the bars and pulled her toward him. He hoped she couldn’t feel him trembling.

“I knew this might happen,” he mumbled over her head, “but…now that it’s actually happening, I—I’m scared.”

Fino threaded her arms between the bars to embrace him. “I’m not giving up. I won’t let them hang you.”

Alternate could not expect her to do anything for Holloway and Tony. But if anything happened to Holloway, Alternate didn’t think he’d ever be able to recover from the loss.


	43. Chapter 43

Judge Eli Alverado was a small man, almost too small for the powerful position he held, power to declare life or death. Standing at five feet tall, slim, and with neatly parted hair speckled with gray, he wasn’t an intimidating man by any means. At rest he appeared peaceful, pleasant, and approachable. The fine lines on his face were a testament to a happy life, with smiling and laughter. His clear blue eyes were known to sparkle and put anyone at ease.

Quincy had _heard_ of this side of the man. He only knew Eli Alverado the _judge_. He hadn’t had much contact with Alverado, but met him once a few years ago when Quincy was called in to testify against an outlaw he had brought in. Quincy had seen many hardened criminals, some of them truly depraved, but for what those people made up in lawlessness, Alverado made up in lawfulness. Outlaws were devils in the wilderness, Alverado a devil in the courtroom. He was a borderline hanging judge. Quincy recalled the last time he saw the man, thinking the judge’s parted hairstyle turned up to resemble the horns of the fallen angel himself. He didn’t stick around to find out what happened to the criminal he testified against. It was easy enough to guess.

It was also easy to guess Alternate’s ultimate fate, along with the fates of Holloway and Tony. Fino had returned to Quincy and almost gone to her knees, begging him to help Sheriff Dawson with the judge. His heart went out to her, but his optimism was nonexistent. Looking back, he regretted making a deal with her. What had made him think he could help Alternate, or made him think Dawson’s influence was enough? They would have to double their efforts by acting together. The judge knew of Quincy’s reputation, and that of Dawson’s, but reputations were all either of them had to use. And favors. There was always the favor.

As the bounty hunter sat there in the judge’s office in the courthouse, he was beginning to draw a blank. His thoughts were distant, but he could hear Dawson saying something to Alverado, and the judge responding flatly. The office belonged to Murdoch’s judge, but the man was away on a trip. Above the mahogany desk was a large painting depicting an armored angel thrusting his sword into a vicious, oversized serpent with fangs and legs like a dragon. The angel, its serene visage contrasting with the moment of victory, seemed aglow in power. Considering the judge who usually sat in this office, it wasn’t surprising there would be such an image in this room. It was a known fact Alverado and Murdoch’s judge were good friends.

The chair under his butt lacked cushioning, so Quincy shifted to relieve the pressure on his bones. His fever broke the night before, but his chest still ached, and a nervous sweat dampened his hairline. Dawson had asked him earlier if he felt okay. He tried to put on his best face and not show his discomfort, but the anxiety of not knowing how things would turn out aggravated it. He fidgeted with a button on his shirt.

“Justice must be done,” the judge said, bringing Quincy back from his thoughts. “The public would be enraged to allow even one of those outlaws to go without some sort of punishment.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands. “And you have yet to present any good reason for letting this boy go free.”

“The Indian girl says Alternate was in the gang to capture the man called Blush,” Dawson replied in a chair beside Quincy. “He never wanted to rob the bank. That wasn’t his intention.”

“But he did it,” the judge said with a shrug. “Doesn’t matter what his intentions were. He conspired with Holloway and his gang, left two men dead and another close to death. He was not working for the law and thus cannot be excused for anything.” He sorted through a stack of papers on his desk and shook his head. “This boy has a history. He was accused of hijacking a train and running it off a cliff.”

Dawson gave Quincy a look of dreadful surprise. Quincy returned it. Fino never mentioned that story!

“He’s also linked in a string of petty robberies,” the judge added, “up until about four or five months ago. There’s a small gap in his activity.” He sighed and shook his head again. “And you expect me to let him go, just because one girl says he didn’t mean to do it?”

Dawson swallowed and clutched his hat in his hands. Fino hadn’t given him much information about Alternate. At this point Quincy wondered if maybe the sheriff was also beginning to have regrets.

Alverado turned to Quincy. “What do you say about this? What have you observed?”

“I believe her,” Quincy said, injecting as much confidence in his voice as he could.

“He shot you,” the judge reminded him.

“He was trying to maintain his position in the gang. If Holloway had found out what his true plans were, Alternate would’ve been thrown out of the gang, or worse.” He took a breath to steady his words. “This had nothing to do with the bank. He wanted revenge against an outlaw—a bad one. One of the worst I’ve ever seen. If it hadn’t been for him, this man’s whereabouts would still be unknown.”

Alverado gave him a stare. “Mr. Phillips, I certainly hope you don’t plan on going to law school, because you’d make a terrible lawyer.”

Quincy threw his eyes to the ceiling and sank in his chair. This was getting him nowhere.

“From the story you told me, it was the girl who stopped Blush,” said the judge, “and you brought him in. That boy had very little to do with it.”

“We still stand by our belief that Alternate’s only concern was Blush,” Dawson said. He also seemed to shrink in his chair. “Though we were unaware of his past,” he muttered.

Quincy flinched. Knowing Alternate’s other crimes put more weight on his doubts, and his conscience. Should he be trying to defend him?

“I might be more inclined to do something if the boy had trapped the Black Eagles,” said Alverado. “But that hadn’t been his intent. He never tried to stop the robbery, or tried to use it to stop the Black Eagles in some way. He only cared about one outlaw. And what would he have done had he succeeded and eluded you, Mr. Phillips?”

Quincy knew the answer.

“He would’ve run,” Alverado answered for him. “He would not pay for any of his crimes.” Restacking the papers, the judge stood. “It is my opinion this young man is a menace to society. I am appalled either of you would try to defend him on the word of a single girl. Her word holds no water as far as I’m concerned.”

Silence followed. The finality in the judge’s voice put a stop to any further argument. But Dawson had one last trick to play.

“How’s your daughter Sally doing?” he asked.

“Well,” the judge replied. “She still has nightmares from time to time, but she’s getting better.”

“You said some time ago that if I ever needed your help, that I could ask for anything.”

Alverado’s icy blue gaze sharpened. “You cannot possibly think you could ask me to let the boy go as a favor for rescuing my daughter?”

Dawson stood. “That’s exactly what I’m asking.”

A sneer appeared on the judge’s face and then vanished, replaced with a conflicted look. He went quiet and reseated himself, swiveling his chair to look up at the enormous painting behind him.

Dawson’s attention was riveted to the judge. These two knew one another better than Quincy did either of them, having a relationship spanning about fifteen years. But Quincy knew the judge was a staunch supporter of law and morality. It was unreasonable to expect him to release someone with such an extensive criminal record. Though one could hold him to his word, it was not legally binding, yet Alverado might consider it a breach of friendship to go back on it. The one mistake he made was not providing stipulations in his promise. He had likely made the promise in a fit of emotional relief when his daughter was returned safe. But the real question was what he considered more important: his personal law, or the law of the land? Could they be one and the same? This was what Quincy feared.

“I can’t give you an answer at this time,” the judge said at length, still staring at the painting.

Quincy couldn’t hold in his sigh, but he bit back the remark that would’ve come with it. Respectfully, he said, “Do you know when you might be able to give us an answer? The trials have already started…”

“Maybe sooner, maybe later,” Alverado replied. “But at the latest I will give you my answer as I declare my sentencing.”

“What about Holloway and the girl?”

The judge turned his chair to face them. “That all depends on their lawyer.”

Alverado then dismissed the two men and requested he be alone to think. They left the building dejected, disappointed, and hopeless.

Outside, the town was trying to put itself back together. The destruction caused by the dynamite was slowly disappearing in the cleanup, and already some buildings were beginning reconstruction. The people went about the work with unease, glancing at Quincy and Dawson and talking amongst each other in low voices. The trial that had begun a few days ago was the big topic of conversation everywhere, but nowhere did anyone suggest giving the criminals leniency. Should Alverado decide to grant Alternate a pardon, he’d have a tough crowd to placate.

“Well,” Dawson said, “I guess all we can do is wait.”

Quincy felt his forehead to check for fever. He didn’t have one, but he felt sick all the same. “Yeah,” he replied, “but I’m afraid if we wait any longer, Fino will die of worry.”

“Looks like you’re about ready to keel over yourself,” Dawson observed. “You better go lie down and wait out the rest of this mess. You’ve done what you could for that girl.”

“Not enough,” Quincy murmured. He smiled bitterly at the irony. Before, she worried about not keeping her end of the bargain. Now he was worried about his end of it.

“Eli’s a reasonable man,” said Dawson. “You can trust he’ll make the right decision.”

Quincy refrained from scoffing. “You believe that?”

“I know it.”

_You didn’t look like it back in the office_ , Quincy wanted to say.

The sheriff put a hand on his shoulder in reassurance, and then started down the street. Quincy let his mind to go numb with mental and emotional fatigue. Some of the townsfolk stared at him, a few with admiration and curiosity, knowing he was the bounty hunter who arrested the outlaws. Earlier someone asked him if he’d collected the reward money, but he sidestepped the answer so he wouldn’t reveal the fact he hadn’t taken the money on Alternate. No one knew he was trying to get Alternate pardoned.

_I have to keep trying_ , he thought. _I still have time left before the final verdict_. But how much time did he have? The proceedings were swift thus far, as there was little defense for Alternate and the others. It was Tuesday, and Quincy guessed by the end of the week their fate would be decided. _I’ll have to talk to the judge again. I can’t let this rest until he gives me an answer._

Tomorrow, he decided, because he wanted to return to his hotel and rest. As he went to pass by the jailhouse, however, he noticed Fino dart across the street and into the jail. She was in a hurry, probably because she hadn’t seen Alternate all day. She must’ve pestered the town’s sheriff into letting her in without an escort, so now she could come and go as she pleased.

Quincy looked with longing in the direction of the hotel, and steered toward the jail.

The deputies loitering around the main office pointed toward the cells without asking him his business. It was amusing how their nonchalant nature showed how normal it was to see her come in, yet none of them knew her name, referring to her as “that Indian girl.” They also thought it funny and pathetic how concerned she was for Alternate.

Fino had her arms through the bars and was whispering while Alternate had his hands on her shoulders and listened, looking pale and drawn. He had not been eating well according to the deputies, and kept asking to see Holloway and Tony, but each time he was refused. What must Tony and Holloway be thinking? They’d been separated now for over a week. Any news they got was received from the sheriff and his deputies. Quincy hadn’t spoken to any of the outlaws since they were incarcerated.

Fino and Alternate were too absorbed in their conversation to notice Quincy watching just down the block. Guilt weighed on his heart as he observed them. Fino’s expression would flit from despair to courage and back again, but Alternate’s never moved from resignation, as if he’d already been delivered a death sentence and accepted it. It was like he’d given up. He had no faith in her at all. But Fino kept fighting. Even after all this time, she kept fighting. She would until Alternate swung from the end of a rope.

Quincy was a quitter. He realized that now. Though he captured Shade and would soon receive justice for his mother, Quincy could count numerous occasions when he had given up, like he had on Silver Ridge. Unlike Fino, he never tried until the very end, until there was war enough to burn that city to the ground. Better for it to smolder than remain in the evil clutches of the barbarians who controlled it. Someone like Fino would battle alone until it killed her, because that was the kind of person she was. She was a warrior in heart and soul, for the good in this world and for those she loved. It was love that propelled her. Why could love not propel Quincy back to Silver Ridge, back to his friends who still suffered under Moulton’s regime? Was love the reason Oralee still fought?

_Love never gives up_. Quincy could see that right in front of his eyes. Fino endured loneliness, heartache, and uncertainty throughout this journey. She might not win her friend’s heart in the end, and she might not take him home alive. But she wasn’t going to stop, because she loved him. He’d said before he didn’t know what it was like to want to chase someone for miles just to have them back again. He’d hated someone enough to do it, but he hadn’t loved anyone enough to do it.

Letting the lovers have their privacy, Quincy left the jailhouse, his mind plagued with questions about himself, the town he’d left behind, and the woman who had loved him.


	44. Chapter 44

The verdict spilled out of the overcrowded courtroom and into the street where the mass of people waited with bated breath. Murmurs swept over the crowd as people relayed the information, but not a single face showed one iota of surprise. So as the news spread through Murdoch, the townsfolk made their way to the courthouse, abandoning homes and businesses for this rare event. It was the biggest thing to happen since silver was found in the hills.

The day was cooler than usual, the wind bringing in dark clouds promising rain. A shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds and touched the slate gray walls of the mines on the western hillside. The wind kicked up dust from the streets and sent it skittering past feet and over bonnets and hats to stall against the ruins of destroyed buildings. Women held fast to their headgear, as did the men. But the threat of another thunderstorm didn’t deter the migration. There was no excited gossip or eager faces, only grim satisfaction. The people talked amongst themselves in low tones, but as the voices within the courthouse rose with intensity, and the doors swung open, the energy spiked.

The clouds opened and released the rain. The sprinkles pelted the people lightly at first as the deputies dragged out the prisoners. When the sprinkles became stinging sheets, the citizens protected themselves by any means they had on them: shawls, hats, sleeves, and jackets. Yet the spectators were stubborn, resisting the need to find more suitable cover under roofs. The sky grumbled with thunder, but no one was perturbed.

The five ropes at the gallows swung and whipped about as the wind picked up. The street became muddier, and all feet soon became soiled up to the ankles. The heedless assembly churned up the road in their march toward the gallows. Conversations became excited. Ten days had been too long to wait for justice. The people were anxious, not to witness death, but to have closure. It was too bad Remmington McCall couldn’t be here to witness it. From home he recovered from his wounds, though he did make an appearance at court to testify against Holloway. It was rumored Holloway had smiled at the banker during the testimony, as if what he did was enough to let him die happy.

The rumor was true. Quincy was there in the courtroom the day McCall pointed his finger at Holloway. The outlaw sat stone-faced, but as McCall was helped down from the witness stand, Holloway smiled as if to say “You think you’ve killed me.” Holloway knew his reputation, and that what he did to Remmington McCall would live in infamy, and the banker would never forget it. The scars would be there for the rest of his life.

Quincy did his best on the stand. He easily condemned Shade, making certain he mentioned his past in Silver Ridge among the countless other crimes he’d committed. But there was very little to make a solid case for Alternate, Tony, or Holloway. The prosecution was too good. The facts piled up against the prisoners. No sob story of having to live a life of crime to survive moved the jury. Their money was missing from the bank, after all, and no one had found it yet. When the defense finally brought Fino to stand witness against Blush, the hearts of the jury were already closed. Tears stained her cheeks when she tried time and again to vouch for his character, but the prosecutor tore her apart. No amount of goodness in Alternate could overturn the fact that he had robbed a bank. He was made out to be a hardened thief beyond redemption. Fino’s testimony meant nothing. The bored stores from the jury made it obvious. The words of a girl and an Indian were worthless alone, so she could only bolster Quincy’s.

The outlaws were given their chance to defend themselves. Blush stayed silent, as did Shade, since neither had a defense that could spare them the noose. Holloway also forwent his own defense, knowing he had nothing and didn’t care he didn’t. Alternate explained his actions succinctly. Tony was coached to give her background to maybe gain some sympathy, adding that she had killed but two people her whole life, both in defense and both outlaws. She hadn’t intended to harm innocent people. She and Alternate attested to Holloway’s character on top of their testimonies, to no avail. It appeared the jury had long since made up its mind from the beginning.

Sensing failure, Fino disappeared from the courtroom for the next two days. Quincy worried and sent out Sticky and Lobo to find her, but they returned twice empty-handed. Could she have left town, thinking her beloved was doomed to die? That didn’t sound like Fino, which worried Quincy even more. She still had that gun. He’d been meaning to take it from her but never found the right opportunity. He needed to know where she was so he could be confident nothing would go wrong.

It might’ve been for the best she wasn’t in the courtroom when Alverado read the jury’s verdict: guilty, on all counts, every single outlaw. Alverado wasted no time declaring them to hang by the neck until dead, that very hour. Quincy wanted to throttle the little man. He and Dawson returned day after day for an answer to their plea to spare at least Alternate, but each time the judge said he was still “thinking on it.” And each time he said that, Quincy’s heart sank further. He knew what the verdict would be, but it still infuriated him. He had claimed he could help Alternate, and he couldn’t, and neither could Dawson. What more could he do? Could he face Fino again, knowing he had failed her so miserably? Quincy wanted to convince himself it wasn’t entirely his fault; Alternate’s extensive history would’ve otherwise persuaded him not to make a deal with Fino. But Alternate being in the Black Eagles should’ve been enough. Quincy had focused too much on getting Shade and made a reckless deal with a young girl searching for her lost love. It’d been selfish.

He was still dizzy from the verdict when he stepped out of the courthouse with Dawson. The crowd pressed around them as they descended the steps and followed the prisoners. Holloway held his head high as usual, Tony staggered about in bewilderment, and Alternate slumped against the deputies who yanked him to keep moving. Blush and Shade scowled but didn’t put up any resistance. The deputies went to work tying them all together so they could be strung along.

“We did all we could,” Dawson said. His characteristic gruff tone had softened in sadness. “She couldn’t be here to see it. She didn’t want to be.”

“I’m worried about her,” Quincy replied. “I wish I knew where she went. You sound like you wish Alternate had been pardoned.”

“I do,” Dawson admitted. “I got to workin’ so hard to convince the judge I started to convince myself the kid was innocent.” He gave a weak shrug. “It was inevitable. Don’t hold it against Eli. It’s his nature to choose the good of all men, instead of paying a personal favor to a friend.”

“We were so sure,” Quincy said in a quivering tone. “ _I_ was so sure.” Where had the days gone? All that work for nothing. Everything was happening too quickly now for him to process. He didn’t even know where his parents were in the crowd.

“It’s better she ain’t here,” Dawson muttered. “I have to put myself in her moccasins and realize I couldn’t handle it, either.”

“I don’t want to be here,” said Quincy. His shoulders dropped. “I can’t watch it.”

Dawson lifted his eyebrows. “And miss the chance to see Shade hang? You’d do that because of that kid?”

The justice—or rather revenge—Quincy had wanted to see for so long didn’t sound so appealing now. His parents wouldn’t be too keen on watching the execution, either. It would be enough to see Shade’s body later before he was buried in the outcasts’ cemetery. He wanted to find Fino.

“You should stay,” Dawson said. “People will be expecting you there. When they heard your story about Shade, they were just as angry as you. They want justice for you, too.”

Quincy observed the great migration of spectators and ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t. I…”

“Hang back, then,” Dawson suggested. “Your friends will find Fino, don’t you worry. I’ll come let you know when the hangin’ is through. People will want to talk to you afterwards.”

Quincy didn’t want to discuss anything with strangers. A few had inquired about his relationship with Fino, but he would only give them a curt reply. Once Shade was dead, and he knew Fino was would be all right by herself, he wanted a long vacation away from everyone’s prying questions.

“If you see Lobo or Sticky, tell them I’m at my hotel,” he said. “I don’t want to be disturbed otherwise.”

Dawson looked disappointed. “I’ll do that,” he conceded.

On his way back, Quincy took a route that helped him avoid the crowd, and avoid having to look into the eyes of the young man he had failed.

 

* * *

 

The gallows were as high as a mountain to Alternate. The way the ropes swung in the oncoming storm made his guts turn knowing he would soon swing with them. He could imagine the sensation of falling when the doors opened under his feet, and he could already hear the ropes creaking with his weight. What was going to happen after that? Would he be engulfed in blackness for all eternity? Was there an afterlife? The question became suddenly important to him. There was that time Mingchao’s grandfather had appeared as a ghost on the Black Goddess statue in New York City. He made it sound like there was something beyond this life. Did heaven and hell exist, or just one place where everyone went no matter what they had done? Alternate hadn’t bothered thinking of these things before. He had lived life like he would live forever.

But he was not going to live forever. He wasn’t going to live another ten minutes. Yet he knew this would happen with the choices he had made, and had anticipated it since the moment Quincy put the manacles on him. He’d come to accept the end; however, he thought he had at least one more day in jail to await his sentence. With that one last day he wanted to tell Fino he loved her, but she abruptly disappeared and he never saw her again. He waited for her to appear at his cell to offer comfort and encouragement like she had for several days. He waited to see her lovely face and hear her beautiful voice. He desperately needed her. But she vanished. She gave up, too, didn’t she? She decided to leave him to his fate as he deserved. It made sense. He betrayed her, crushed her heart, and ruined their friendship. Though she seemed to forgive him, he needed to pay the price, pay the price for everything he had done to everyone he ever encountered. Forgiveness and mercy weren’t going to save him.

Tony was beside him, her once-golden mane of curls hanging dull and matted and dripping from the rain. She hadn’t been allowed a bath while in jail, though a doctor came and cleaned the gunshot wound in her hip. What a lot of good that would do now that she was going to die. She didn’t speak a word to Alternate, not in court or between walks back to jail. The blue eyes that were usually so sharp and vibrant had gone dim and lifeless. She wore a posture of defeat, head down and staring at the ground.

Holloway’s shoulders were squared, and none of the time in jail or knowledge of his impending death wore on his countenance. Heedless of the rain and defiant until the end, he stood at his full height, which was above most people in the crowd. Though he couldn’t be described as muscular, his body issued an aura of strength and power, not at all diminished by his capture and downfall. Alternate admired him for it and stood in awe. _This is my father._ _He’s not afraid of anything. I wish I could’ve been more like him, even right now._ It was devastating to know there wouldn’t be more chances to get to know this remarkable man. _But I found him. At least I did that._

Next to Holloway stood Shade, barely able to stand with the wounds in his arms and legs. He wore a grimace which might’ve reflected his pain, or perhaps hatred for the man who had put him in this position. The bounty hunter was nowhere among the crowd, nor were his parents. Alternate secretly hoped Shade’s corpse would be cut up like he had done to all his victims. He didn’t deserve to be buried.

Standing next to Shade closest to the gallows was Blush. He would be first to ascend the stairs and first to don the rope and hood. They would all hang together, but Alternate wished he could see Blush be the first to drop. That way he could witness his revenge for Gordy’s murder for all of ten seconds before he, himself, dropped. But like Holloway, Blush appeared defiant, his face twisted with a sneer that boasted of no regrets and no guilt. A few times he peered at Alternate, eyes laughing with the irony of their shared fate. Alternate wanted to believe in the end that he had won in their feud, because it was Alternate who ultimately found Blush and had him caught and arrested. _I got you and you know it. It was me!_

“If you’d just stayed dumb, you wouldn’t be here right now,” Blush had remarked as they were herded back to jail one day after court. “But what do you say we make up? You, me, and your pa can have a nice little tea party in hell!” He’d laughed a harsh sound that grated in Alternate’s ears.

 _I might hang today for crimes in life, but I’m not going to hell,_ Alternate decided then. _I’m going to heaven to be with my mother. And Holloway and Tony are coming, too!_ The thought was childish, but what did it matter now that he stared death in its pale, gaunt face? He would be as childish as he wanted. If he had to stand at the pearly gates and argue with God to let Holloway and Tony in, he would. Alternate imagined it and then wanted to laugh at himself for imagining it. He would laugh at himself as much as he wanted to, too. But God would send them both to hell just for arguing with him. _And then we could be in hell together. I guess that’s better than nothing._

Hell was supposed to be a place of torture, though, right? Flames and whips might be implemented, perhaps, but it was torture of the mind Alternate dreaded. He would think of all the people he wronged, and the one thing he couldn’t resolve: what had happened to his mother. There were but minutes left in his life, and the clock was ticking fast. There wasn’t enough time to resolve anything. With Holloway standing next to him, what could Alternate ask that would satisfy some lingering question about his mother? There beside him stood a treasure trove of hidden information, information he was never going to fully know. The ideas in his mind jostled for attention until one came to the forefront.

Alternate had to wet his dry mouth with his saliva before speaking. “Holloway? C-Can I ask you something?”

Holloway didn’t look at him, but said, “Yes.”

Alternate tried not to choke on a sob when he asked, “What did my mother look like?”

This time Holloway glanced down at him. “She… She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.” He turned away and blinked at the tears. “She was slim like you, and small. She was intelligent and kind.” A faint smile graced his handsome face as he recalled. “Her hair was black, and long. Her eyes were green and bright, with long lashes. She liked to have fun, and she liked to help people…” His words trailed away, gaze fixed on a distant memory.

“I just wanted to know,” Alternate said. “Since I never knew…” He would think of her face before he died, think of her smiling like he had made her proud. Holloway had smiled at him that way. Alternate would think of the both of them looking at him proudly for coming so far, for changing as much as he had, for growing so much.

“And, Alternate?” Holloway said, directing his gaze once more to the crowd. “You will not call me by my name. You will call me ‘Father.’”

It was almost like a command to a subordinate, but tears blurred Alternate’s vision and trickled down his cheeks. “Okay...Father.”

His mind wandered off after that. Someone had gone up on the scaffold and announced something to the crowd, resulting in a smattering of applause. A speech ensued, but Alternate heard none of it. He kept imagining his mother, what her voice might’ve sounded like, and what it might’ve been like had he grown up with Reselda and Holloway. If she was dead, they would soon see each other again, and Alternate tried to take comfort in this. It was all he had at this point to keep from fainting out of terror.

The outlaws were turned toward the gallows and made to march toward the steps. Alternate broke from his thoughts to regard the nooses against the blackening sky. They swayed like snakes dangling from the crossbeams overhead. A slanting sheet of rain slapped against his face, making him squint. The wind shoved him to the side. A flash lit up the world, followed by a peal of thunder. No threat of lightning was going to dissuade the spectators from missing out on this rare event, though. They were being soaked to the bone as they stubbornly withstood the storm. Alternate would’ve been annoyed by his wet clothes if he bothered to care anymore about such things. He wasn’t going to complain when he was buried in the cold, wet ground, either.

His heart lurched when he put his foot on the first step of the scaffold. The structure was enormous, built to accommodate five. There hadn’t been any doubt all five prisoners would be hung. Alternate focused on his feet and turned his mind’s eye back to his mother. But then the image of her kind face vied with Fino’s, fragmenting his thoughts and making him lose his concentration. He wanted to be so absorbed in this meditation that he wouldn’t notice the noose being looped around his neck.

The meditation was working because Alternate walked head-first into Holloway’s backside, not realizing his father had stopped on the steps. The mass in front of the gallows shifted, and people began shouting and pointing.

 

* * *

 

How did she end up out here? Fino had asked herself this countless times already and couldn’t find the answer. One day she walked out of the courtroom and never went back. Numb and empty, she went straight for her camp and packed up her things, loaded up her horse, and was about to ride off when she stopped, slid out of the saddle, and sobbed uncontrollably on the ground. Yet she could not bring herself to go back into town to see Alternate again. Over the next few days it took considerable will not to ride away and leave everything behind.

It had been obvious to her what the trial’s outcome would be. The jury was not listening to her, and the judge impassive. Alternate made little effort to defend himself, and his lawyer had scarce material to use for his client’s benefit. Fino alone put any passion in her defense of him, but the lawyer who was against them made her out to be a silly little girl who didn’t know what she was talking about. She felt so foolish. But most of all she felt foolish for wanting to run away. _How could I abandon him like this? Why now? How could I be so selfish?_

She moved camp to the northern outskirts of town, not wanting to be bothered by Quincy and his friends. From here she had a better view of the courthouse, though it was semi-obscured. No matter how long she stared down at that building, she just couldn’t go back. Helplessness overtook her courage. _What am I doing here? Am I just going to sit here and wait for him die?_

Sitting on a blanket, she held the Zodiac Gun in her lap and ignored the increasing rain that dampened her dress. There was a way out of this, but something held her back. Was it the white man’s law? What did she care about that? She had in her own hands the most powerful gun the West. The solution was simple. If she created a diversion, she could whisk Alternate back to her tribe. She could protect him there. Yes, she could do that…

She couldn’t predict the consequences of her decision, though. What would her people think? They would find out what happened, what Alternate and had done and what Fino did to protect him. She wasn’t afraid of the white man’s law. She was afraid of the shame she would bring on herself and her family. She would be bringing back a wanted fugitive and expecting them to help her protect him. They didn’t know much about Alternate’s past, but when they did find out they would balk at the idea of taking him in, the same way Quincy and Dawson balked when the judge brought up Alternate’s criminal reports.

Both men had questioned her about that, but she told them she didn’t know such “reports” existed. She had no idea white men kept track of those things, and never thought she needed to mention them. When she offered to talk to the judge herself, they told her not to bother. She knew then how bleak the future was for Alternate.

_Had I not become involved, would none of this have happened? All of this is my fault. Alternate’s going to die because of me!_

She picked up the Zodiac and went to stand when her gun was plucked from her fingers. She whipped about and yelled, “Hey!”

Lobo grinned back, the Zodiac twirling on his finger. Sticky stood behind him with rainwater dripping from his straw hat.

“Ahh, here you are,” Lobo said. “The boss was wondering where you’ve been.”

“I don’t want to talk to him,” Fino shot back. “Now give me my gun!” She reached out to snatch it back but Lobo pulled away. He clicked his tongue at her.

“I know what you are thinking,” he said with a shake of his finger. “You want to save your friend, but you will only create a bigger problem.”

“I don’t care!” Fino shouted. She was startled at the sound of her own voice. She had reverted to a petulant child demanding her way, and it embarrassed her.

Lobo sensed her desperation and regarded her with compassion. “I am sorry about your friend. I wish we could do more, but we can’t. You don’t want to cross the law and become an outlaw yourself.”

“Aren’t I already?” Fino said. She spread out her hands. “You saw the way those people treated me in that courtroom. They see no difference between an outlaw and an Indian! They ignored everything I said. It makes no difference what I do.”

But that wasn’t true. The law would chase her all the way back to her village. Yes, she had the most powerful gun in the West, but was it fair to get her people mixed up in this? She was stupid for not considering this before.

Lobo didn’t agree with her. “The boss himself would have to take you to jail. It would kill him to do that. Just like it kills him now to see your friend hung.”

Fino couldn’t be angry with Quincy. He’d done his best to convince the judge. If she went into town and disrupted the execution, it would cause him grief and everyone else she’d met during this ordeal. People might even think Quincy and Dawson were in on it.

 _But in all, Alternate is the most important person to me here. Is there really nothing more I can do?_ No, not when Lobo had her gun now. Her heart was hollow, yet at the same time filled with pain enough to burst. It was as if Alternate were already dead.

She fell silent for a few moments as she thought carefully about what she wanted to say next. “Lobo, I want you to deliver a message to Quincy. He’ll know who to talk to.” She paused. “I would like to take Alternate’s…body…back home with me. And Holloway and Tony’s.”

The big man gawked at her. “They will want to bury them in the cemetery—“

“I _know_ that,” Fino said. “They could see as it three less people they have to bury. I want to bury them among my people. At least there they won’t be alone, and I couldn’t bear separating Alternate from those he cared about.”

Lobo shrugged, seeming doubtful. “I cannot guarantee what he will say, or what the sheriff will say, but I’ll tell them.”

“Thank you.” Fino turned to look back at Murdoch. Earlier the people had gathered at the courthouse, but now they had moved down the street, still visible but Fino couldn’t see what held their attention now. She swallowed. “How much longer do you think it will be?”

“Not sure,” Lobo replied. “Probably soon. I think they are getting ready right now.”

“Now?” Fino whispered. Her hand came up near her heart as a cold stone of dread dropped in her stomach. _He’ll be gone soon. And I couldn’t even get myself to be there to say goodbye._ She would regret it for the rest of her life, and she didn’t think she’d be able to live with it.

A noisy racket drifted up from the town. A shot split the air, and a long rumble followed. The calm of the crowd was disturbed and people began to scatter. Screams reached Fino’s ears. The stone in her stomach grew heavier.

Lobo squinted at the growing chaos. “What…?”

“Something’s wrong,” Fino said. “Lobo, I’ll need my gun.”

He appeared reluctant. Quincy had given him the order to take the Zodiac. Fino knew what he was thinking.

“There’s trouble,” she told him. “Come with me. Quincy might need us.”

Lobo hesitated, but as the bedlam escalated, he nodded. “I will trust you on this. You understand, don’t you?”

“I do,” she replied. After Lobo returned the gun, they went for their horses. As they tore their way back to town, Fino could see a large contingent of horses—and men with guns.


	45. Chapter 45

Alternate tumbled off the steps of the scaffold and onto the muddy ground. Stunned, he spat out muck and grit and tried to regain his bearings. He felt a tug on the ropes holding him and the others together. One of the prisoners had jumped down, sending everyone else with them.

The crowd bolted. Men on horseback burst down the street, firing off random shots to frighten the bystanders into running away, while others aimed their weapons at those who chose to stay and fight. It was a confusing mess that left Alternate’s mind whirling. He pushed himself up to see. Slick mud covered his whole front. His monocle had fallen off somewhere, causing his vision to take on a strange blurred and clear effect. Holloway struggled next to him, and Tony backed away on her knees against the stairs. Another jerk on the rope jolted them.

He didn’t want to move. If they moved out beyond the gallows, they could be trampled in the chaos, but Alternate wanted to find shelter from the hail of bullets spitting around them; however, with everyone tied together, it would take a coordinated effort, and they might be shot anyway for looking like they were trying to escape. Alternate righted himself on his knees and watched the fracas. He noted a few familiar faces among the horsemen.

“That’s Emilio, isn’t it?” Alternate said to Holloway. “And that’s Mick! What are they doing here?”

“They’ve come for us.” Holloway’s face was streaked with grime, his clothes dripping with it. The rain came down in little stinging beads. “They found out we were captured.”

The gang was far more loyal than Alternate gave them credit for. Some of them would lose their lives in this mad endeavor. They could’ve left with their share of the money and been gone across the border before the law could find their tracks. But they came back for Holloway. They would fight for him.

“Incredible,” Alternate breathed.

He looked down the line past Holloway to see Blush attempting to pull away. He had nothing to cut himself free. Shade looked annoyed at his attempts, flinching at the pain it caused his wounds.

A man steered his horse to a stop in front of them. The man Alternate had seen earlier—Emilio—hopped down and pulled forth a large knife, quickly sawing away at the ropes that bound Holloway and Alternate together. When they were free, he went for Tony’s binds, but Blush shouted, “Cut me next! Hurry! We have a wounded man here!”

Emilio sliced through the rope holding Holloway and Shade, and then hastened for Blush. As soon as the ties were split, Blush snatched up one of Emilio’s holstered guns and dashed away. Emilio, not knowing this outlaw, paid him no mind and at last severed the rope between Alternate and Tony.

Bullets splattered around them in the softened ground, and upon instinct, Alternate grabbed Tony and dragged her toward a wagon parked across the street. He pushed her under the wagon bed and commanded she stay there. She trembled in terror, her hair glued in wet strings against her face, but she said nothing as Alternate jumped back into the mayhem.

Most of the frightened citizens had vanished from the fight, but the lawmen stayed behind and there were a few do-gooders with guns who wanted to be heroic. Windows had been busted out and buildings used as fortresses against the outlaws. The Black Eagles, numbering perhaps twenty, fought on horseback or on foot. Alternate counted three dead in the street and one dead on the boardwalk in front of a store. He ducked across the road back to the gallows, but Holloway was gone. Shade crawled toward a building with a water trough out front.

In the street, a short man clutched at his side. He limped and tried to make his way to a fortified saloon, but he stumbled and fell. Alternate rushed over to help. The injured man was Eli Alverado, shot in the side and bleeding profusely. Red stained his white shirt and black jacket, blood leaking between his fingers.

“We’ll get you inside,” Alternate said.

The judge noted Alternate’s freed hands. “How did you…?”

Alternate pulled him up, ignoring Alverado’s cry of pain from the effort, and staggered with him to the saloon. Rifles thundered and spat fire from the broken windows, but Alternate continued on and barged through the doors to lay Alverado on the floor. Two men came forward.

“This here’s the judge!” one of the men exclaimed.

“He needs a doctor,” Alternate told him. “He might bleed to death.”

The other man got a closer look at Alternate. “Hey, ain’t you one of them prisoners who was gonna be hung today?”

“Get this man help!” Alternate snapped back. “He’ll bleed to death. I’ll go outside see if anyone else needs help.” _And maybe get the Black Eagles to give this up!_

Another person came through the door hauling a wounded companion on his back. As he slid him down beside the judge, Alternate glanced out the door. He jumped up and ran onto the boardwalk just when Holloway swung up onto a spare horse brought to him by Emilio. They spurred their horses onward, followed by several others from the gang, but Alternate rushed out into the street and called after them.

“Holloway!”

His call cut across the distance, over the gunfire and shouts. Like a bullet to his back, Holloway jerked his horse around to see who called for him. Alternate stood alone in the middle of the road as the Black Eagles fled past him and retreated to their leader. They surrounded Holloway and fired off rounds at those who tried to stop them.

Alternate stared after him in disbelief. _You were just going to run off without me?_ Betrayal cut a deep crevasse in his heart, but as Holloway met his gaze, he could see the uncertainty there. It had always been Holloway’s policy to leave behind those who hurt their chances of survival. He could survive the escape, if he just left Alternate and Tony behind.

Wavering in indecision, Holloway lingered, the men waiting anxiously for his order. The gunfire waned as the citizens watched with wary interest at this development.

The blood-bond proved stronger than Holloway’s sense of self-preservation. He barked a command to his men. “Retreat to the wilderness! Save yourselves!”

The gunfire ceased as they gaped at him.

“You disobeyed me!” he roared. “I told you to scatter, and you didn’t. What sort of men have I led that you can’t even obey a simple command? _Now go_!”

The men exchanged looks, some in disbelief, but then galloped away, leaving their leader open and vulnerable. Gunfire resumed as they retreated and followed them as they vanished.

Holloway dropped down from the saddle and used his horse like a shield as he made his way back to Alternate. People emerged from their holdouts to assess the remaining danger. An uneasy peace settled with the sound of rain hissing on the roofs.

Holloway faced Alternate with shame, water dripping off his chin. Silence descended between them. He looked pale. “I have failed you again.”

Men with glinting stars on their shirts came forward to surround them, rifles aimed and ready. Alternate looked at them with regret.

“You should’ve gone,” he said. “At least one of us could’ve lived.”

“I was ready to die today. I still am.”

 _I’m not_ , Alternate thought as the deputies came closer. He had believed his father would order some of the men to pick up him and Tony and take them away, too. He never expected Holloway to change his mind and stay.

“I will not leave you alone to face the unknown,” said Holloway, eyeing the first man to come near. “I’ve left you alone long enough.” He put out his hands as the deputies went to subdue him. As they put their hands on Alternate, someone shouted from the saloon.

“Don’t hurt them!” Judge Alverado commanded. “Take them back to the jail.” He pressed a wad of cloth to his side, supported by two men in the doorway. He was in obvious pain, but he defied it all to point a firm finger at the prisoners. “I want to speak with that young man later.”

“There are two missing,” one of the deputies said to him, “and another is dead.”

Alternate’s attention went to the vacant spot under the wagon where he had left Tony. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He never saw her leave, and she wasn’t among the Black Eagles when they shielded Holloway. It wasn’t like her to leave him in the heat of battle. She just wouldn’t do that. Had she crawled away to safety somewhere? As the deputies tied his wrists, Alternate kept looking for her, expecting to see her dragged out to join them. Some of the lawmen went to search.

As Alternate and Holloway were turned toward the jail, Dawson and Quincy arrived, winded and soaked from the rain. Quincy held his signature rifle, his face flush, tired but alert. His eyes flashed as he took in the scene of the prisoners in custody and the bodies littering the street. There were now eight.

“Where are the others?” he asked in reference to the prisoners.

Murdoch’s sheriff came limping over to stand beside his deputies. His leg showed no obvious sign of a wound. “The girl’s gone,” he said. “The one called Blush is gone as well. We saw him grab a stray horse and tried to stop him, but he was too fast. The girl might’ve done the same thing.”

Quincy looked at Holloway and Alternate curiously, as if wondering why they hadn’t run, too. “We’ll find them. They might have a head start, but—“ His sights locked on something beyond them. The color in his face drained and his lips parted.

Shade lay sprawled on his face near the water trough where he was last seen. Red spattered the back of his head and droplets dotted his clothes. He was dead. Delora sat in her wheelchair on the boardwalk behind the corpse. She trembled, her hands thrust out as she gazed at them with a revulsion and horror. Her expression twisted in incredulity. She looked like she wanted to scream. She did.

Quincy had a near fall in a hurry to get to her and almost dropped the Lead Messenger. Only when he touched her shoulders did she finally stop screaming, and she fell into a sob, covering her face and trying to turn away from her son. Quincy leaned over and picked up a revolver that had been lying on the boardwalk beside his mother’s chair. Boris came out from the building behind them with a rifle in his hand.

“She killed him?” Alternate said.

“A more suitable execution than hanging,” said Holloway acidly. “But I would’ve liked him cut apart and fed to the dogs.”

Alternate noted how Shade lay faced away from Delora, like he’d been shot from behind and fallen forward. Surely a kind woman like Delora wouldn’t have murdered an unarmed man?

“Enough gawking,” the sheriff said. He prodded the prisoners forward to the jail. “Because of this mess, we’re gonna have to start all over again.”

Alternate groaned. He couldn’t take much more of this. He preferred to hang himself in jail. At least then he wouldn’t have to wait until morning.

 

* * *

 

Tony had been well outside of town when she saw the Black Eagles retreat. She watched with her horse from an abandoned cabin on a ridge overlooking the town from northwest. Holloway and Alternate weren’t among the men. Had they been killed?

She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes closed to force back the tears. Back in town she’d managed to slink away into an alley and found an unattended horse hobbled on the next street over. It broke her heart to remember. She’d fought with herself over leaving, but she hated feeling helpless and afraid. Her hip still bothered her, and with no weapon there hadn’t been a way for her to fight. She was useless. But at least she could save her own life.

 _That’s the problem. I left Nate behind._ It hadn’t been her plan, though. What with the confusion, she believed he would do as she did: find a ride and get out. Holloway, too. The gang provided the distraction. What in the blue blazes happened?

 _And here I am, alone and probably the only survivor. I saved own my skin and didn’t try to help anyone else._ She felt horrible. She didn’t deserve someone like Alternate, or Holloway, even. In the end she showed her true worth.

Tony couldn’t do much about it now, unless she wanted to turn herself in and be executed. As long as she had the choice to live, she would.

She went to climb into the saddle and heard hoof beats approaching. Her hands dropped to where her missing guns would’ve been at her hips. Fear gripped her. She expected a posse, but instead the blond man Alternate hated so much came riding toward her. Judging from the look on his face, he hadn’t been expecting to come upon anyone way up here. He snarled and pulled up in front of her.

“You’re Alternate’s other little bitch,” Blush said. “I guess he’s lucky to have two.”

“Ride on,” Tony said firmly. “I have no quarrel with you.”

“Is that so? Then what do you call what you did at the exchange? A welcoming party?”

“I had to protect Holloway. It was nothing personal.”

“Well, that’s refreshing. Everyone else around here’s got a grudge against me.”

“Well, you’re free now. Just go on.” She couldn’t kill him without guns. He had one tucked away in his belt, and Tony had heard he was fast. Even if she did have guns, she might’ve lost anyway. _I have to stay alive. I’ve always had to._

A chill went up her spine when an eerie light entered Blush’s eyes. His lips curled up in a vicious grin. “You think I’ll just pass up this golden opportunity? I don’t know what happened to that idiot Alternate, but I can’t forget all he’s done to me. He’s always screwing with my plans. I was almost hung because of him!” He pulled the revolver from his belt. “I might be satisfied to pay him back by killing _you_.”

He lifted the gun and Tony looked into the black hole in the barrel. Terror overtook her and she froze.

The cabin beside them exploded. Blush’s horse reared up and almost knocked Tony to the ground. He clung to the saddle while debris blew in every direction. Chunks of logs and bits of glass and chinking pelted them as they tried to keep their steeds from fleeing. Blush swore loudly when he saw the sizzling hole in the side of cabin. He spurred his horse and took off, but his animal stumbled when another blast rocked the earth under its feet. Blush hung on by some miracle and the horse found its footing.

“Blush!”

Fino charged past the cabin and let fly another bullet. It struck the ground behind Blush, but not close enough. He sped away unaffected. Fino took aim once more but faltered. He was too far now for her to aim true.

She stopped and turned back to Tony. “Are you all right?”

“I—I’m alright,” Tony replied. Her nerves were rattled and she had to remember to breathe. Her horse stepped from side to side nervously, tugging on the reins in her hands. She had a white-knuckled grip on them. She couldn’t afford to lose her ride now. “The Black Eagles came—“

“I noticed that. Where is everyone?”

“Shouldn’t you be chasing that man?”

“I’ll be fair and give him a few minutes.”

“Nate and Holloway weren’t with the gang when they left. I don’t know where they are. They’re still in town. They might be—“ She swallowed the lump in her throat.

Fino glared down at her in judgement, and Tony feared the questions she might ask. Then Fino’s expression softened. “You should go,” she said.

Tony blinked. “Go? You’re letting me go?”

“If I can’t save Alternate, then I can at least save you. Besides, you saved my life once. I owe it to you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“I choose to. Now go, please! Don’t let this be vain.” Fino pointed to a prominent mountain peak to the south. “People say that’s called Yellow Mountain. Meet me up there in a few days. There’s a road leading to a small mine, but no one uses it anymore. Stay hidden until then. I’ll tell you what I find out in town.”

She didn’t wait for an answer as she dashed off after Blush, her horse kicking up muddy earth and jumping over a log that had blown off the cabin.

Tony watched in astonishment. _She let me go?_ Fino could’ve tied her up to pick up later and return to the sheriff. But then Fino didn’t care about that, did she? She had no obligation to the law.

Tony would have to swing around the town to get to the road leading into the mountain. A posse could be out looking for her, so she wasted no time mounting up.


	46. Chapter 46

Fino knew exactly which way Blush would be headed. He would avoid the main roads and run straight for the wilderness. Since the town was south of her, it made sense he would go west to clear it. In the open country, she should be able to spot him and catch up.

She’d been on her way to the commotion in Murdoch when she saw Blush darting away on a horse on the outskirts of town. Without a word to Lobo and Sticky, she veered away to follow him on instinct, a strong one. She wondered why she could pursue Blush when Alternate was in trouble, if he wasn’t dead already, but something told her she couldn’t let him get away. She just couldn’t let a dangerous man go free to make more people suffer.

When Blush had stopped at a dilapidated cabin, Fino thought luck was back on her side. But then her throat clenched when she saw Blush aiming a gun at Tony’s head. The safecracker had had a defiant set to her posture, which then quickly melted into fear. Fino had but seconds to act. She didn’t mean to hit the cabin.

She couldn’t judge Tony. She didn’t know what had happened in town or how Tony wound up alone. There would be questions later, but right now Fino needed to catch up with Blush.

The rain lessened and the clouds parted to the sun. The damp ground made Blush’s tracks easier to follow. Ahead of her were some low ridges and a canyon, and beyond that had to be the plain. Fino drove her horse faster. She kept an eye on the tracks and saw several more merge with them, a lot more. They wove around large clumps of brush and seemed to be moving at a fast clip away from town. A splash of red gleamed on a bush. _Someone’s bleeding? I’m pretty sure I didn’t hit Blush._ Could he have been injured back in town? Tony never mentioned he was hurt. It bothered Fino that she might be facing off with a wounded enemy, far from the fair odds she had hoped for. She wasn’t the sort to kick someone while they were down, no matter how evil a person she thought they were.

She slowed as she came to the mouth of the canyon. It was low but narrow, its walls reinforced with sturdy rock. It would be a good place for an ambush if someone managed to stay out of sight from above. The higher places were occupied mostly by low bushes and thin, stumpy trees, providing scant cover. Fino figured Blush wouldn’t stop to stage an ambush, or would he? She stopped before entering the canyon to consider the risks, but the longer she waited, the farther Blush got away.

Whoever made the large group of tracks had also gone into the canyon. The trail was new, made just that day. It made Fino uneasy to think of what might be waiting for her in that chasm. Its length and where it ended were unknown. She had assumed it would open up to the plain.

Fino took up the Zodiac. Strapped on its body with a leather thong was a dried scorpion. Pieces of it had fallen away, but the thong kept most of it pressed to the gun. This way she didn’t have to hold it on by herself or worry about running out of bullets.

She goaded her horse forward at a walk. Fino kept her finger on the trigger of the Zodiac as she watched the canyon walls above her. The trail wound its way upwards in a gentle rise, the path becoming choked with vegetation. Plants were trampled, making the path obvious. Many people had come through here.

Fino’s heart hammered in her chest. As the sun glared its rays into the canyon, it struck the countless puddles that had formed in hollows in the ground. They flashed like mirrors in the stagnant, humid air. Her horse’s hooves echoed against the stones around her. The hairs on her neck stood on end. Though she could see no one, she sensed the danger. No one above her, and no one in front of her, yet there was a presence. She sharpened her senses. The twittering of birds fluttered over her heightened nerves. Her mouth went dry, but she had no water with her and would’ve refused to take a drink even if she had some. She couldn’t lower her guard.

A clinking reached her ears. It lasted but a moment, but she was certain it sounded like a small piece of metal striking something. She stopped. Her trigger finger twitched as it had that fateful day Blush got away. She pushed away the memory. Now was not the time to remember failure.

A shadow passed over her. Fino whipped her gun up. A bird drifted on the warm, rising air above the canyon. A falcon. It chirped and dipped its wings from side to side as it rode the breeze higher, moving westward. Fino took a deep breath to still her fears. Her limbs trembled, but she fought to clear her mind and heart. Patience. She needed it if she wanted to succeed this day.

_He’s here. I know he is._ Blush’s tracks were lost among the dozens of others that had mixed with his. There was something in her gut telling her someone was near, though. The clink of metal didn’t come again, but it had been close. The scuff of a boot came next. A low mutter carried with it. She knew the pitch of that voice. It came to her in nightmares.

The right side of the canyon wall thrust inward to narrow the passage and obscure the trail ahead. Fino dismounted. Taking careful steps, she approached the gap with gun in hand. There was another clink and a grumble. A horse snorted. Fino pressed herself against the wall and out of sight, and peered into the gap.

Blush crouched and fumbled with the saddle. The clinking Fino had heard was a cinch ring that had somehow broken and fallen off. How it broke was anyone’s guess, but it didn’t have a buckle, either. Blush loosened the saddle, slid it off, and tossed it to the side. He next flung the saddle blanket over the back of the animal.

He had no supplies. The next town was Silver Ridge, and unless he stopped at the stagecoach station he wouldn’t find much shelter out in the wilderness. Fino doubted he’d stop anywhere along the way. He was in too much of a hurry.

She stepped out from hiding. “You’re bound to make mistakes when you’re in a hurry like that.”

Blush jumped and pulled the revolver from his belt. Fino’s Zodiac was already up and waiting for him. He knew he had no chance, but he didn’t lower his weapon.

“As long as I can run fast enough to get away from you,” he said.

“It’s hilarious how desperate you are.” She nodded at his horse. “Planning on riding all the way to Silver Ridge?”

Blush’s hand wavered. That had been his destination. “No,” he lied. “I’ll go where you can’t find me.”

“I’ll always find you,” Fino replied, her voice turning low and deadly. “Even if you die of old age, I’ll find you. I’ll bring your dry corpse back to my people so we can tear you to pieces for all you’ve done to us.”

“Savages,” Blush whispered. He grinned. “Well, looks like you’ve got me. Why don’t you make the first shot?”

“I would, but I’d rather not lug dead weight around. You’re _walking_ back with me.”

“Don’t have any help?”

Fino’s silence answered the question for him. He knew she was alone, and that might be more to his advantage. Shooting him would’ve been preferable to avoid resistance, but like she said, she wouldn’t be able to haul him back to Murdoch by herself, and it would take too long to go back for help.

Blush glanced past her and smiled. “Okay, then. If you won’t make the first shot, I will.” He inched his arm a little to the right and let loose a bullet over Fino’s head. The bullet struck the walls of the canyon and whizzed past her ear. Fino ducked. She could hear the bullet bounce off the walls until it lodged in a soft spot somewhere. Blush mounted up and galloped away. Fino rushed back to her horse.

She steered through the winding canyon, catching glimpses of Blush just ahead of her. The trail leveled off and began to decline, and the passage widened. The plains opened up in front of her, and Fino and Blush were released into the open. Blush wound around the thick shrubs dotting the plain, trying to make Fino’s aim more difficult. She shot a Scorpio bullet. Blush wheeled away before it could hit him. Again and again she tried, but she kept missing.

“Stop moving around!” she shouted. To her dismay, the gap between them increased. Was his horse faster than hers? She spurred her steed furiously.

Something rumbled behind her. A large number of riders were gaining on her. Her first thought was a posse, but as they came closer she recognized some of their faces. It was the Black Eagles, converging on her trail. They were either on the run or chasing her, but they were getting closer by the second. Her heart gave another kick.

Blush had widened the distance between them, and even as he did, the Black Eagles closed it with Fino. It occurred to her that they were the ones who left the trail through the canyon. Where in the world had they come from? They rode toward her like an army with their weapons drawn, tearing up the wet earth under them. Fear rose in Fino’s throat, but she swallowed it. The gang looked to be in pursuit, and she could only guess they were after _her_. She had caused them immense trouble, and not just by delaying the robbery, but by having their leader tried and hung. Of course they were going after her!

She returned her attention to Blush. She needed to get him before the gang caught up. Luckily, her prey hadn’t gone much farther. In fact, she was closing the gap—or rather he was doing it for her. He appeared to be slowing, his zigzagging movements becoming more sluggish. Concentrating as best she could, Fino took aim. The Zodiac bucked. The bullet tore through the air, a track of heat shimmering as it went. Fino prayed. She would’ve missed, except Blush, more focused on steering, happened to turn to the right angle needed for the bullet to hit true. Hooves, arms, and legs flailed in the explosion that followed.

As Fino closed in on her target, she could hear the Black Eagles coming up behind her. They thundered as they overtook her, passing Blush and his bewildered horse, and turned back to face her. Fino stopped at Blush and watched as the gang encircled the both of them. Though they had guns, they held them at ease with a sort of grim aloofness.

Blush coughed and spat as he regained his footing. His horse, spooked but unharmed, bolted from between the ranks of the Black Eagles and into the empty desert. Blush staggered and went for his revolver—and froze when he saw the gang surrounding him.

A man with an eyepatch came forward. He held a rifle in the crook his arm, regarding Blush with one cold eye. Fino noted with a shiver the scars around the man’s neck. She remembered him. He was one of the older members of the gang, and he had brought her food during her imprisonment among them. She recalled the way he had held himself with pride, like a prince, and how he had walked with a slight limp in his left leg. His name was Fletcher.

Fletcher spoke with a gentle drawl. “Aw, now, you shouldn’t act so surprised. We were gonna catch up to you sooner or later.”

Blush’s gaze flicked from Fino to Fletcher, not sure which one he needed to be most worried about. “What do you want?” he snapped. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Busy tryin’ to save yer neck,” Fletcher replied. “This here girl has got ya shakin’ in yer boots. Funny.”

The other men chuckled.

Blush, careful now with his movements, nodded his head at Fino. “She’s the one you want. She’s the reason your boss is gonna swing. He’s probably dead now as we speak!”

Fletcher smiled. “We know the story. This girl has given us a heap o’ trouble, but we’ve had eyes and ears in town and people say she’s been tryin’ to save Holloway.”

Blush scoffed and flicked a hand at Fino. “You think she gives a damn about your boss? She’s trying to save Alternate. That’s all she cares about. She couldn’t care less about your boss!”

“I can speak for myself,” Fino said. “Quincy and I were both trying to help. We were trying to help all of them.”

Blush sneered. “You kid yourself. You’re as selfish as anyone else.”

Fletcher cut in. “We ain’t concerned about the girl. It’s you we want. You _and_ Shade are backstabbers, and we don’t tolerate backstabbers in the Black Eagles.”

“I—I don’t even know what you’re talking about! Who’s Shade?”

“Don’t play dumb with us.” Fletcher leaned forward in his saddle, his one blue eye pinning Blush. “A few of us happened to run into Rosario. You remember him, don’t you? A little rat-faced fella. He asked us where Shade was and some man we’d never heard of, a man named Blush _._ We pressured him a bit—no harm done—and he told us everything. Shade and the ‘outside connection’…workin’ in cahoots to eliminate Holloway. Needless to say, we wasn’t too happy to hear about that.” He sat up and pointed with his chin at the men standing behind Blush. They drew forward. “Some of us inquired about this Blush person in town, and turns out it was you. Emilio didn’t know what he’d done, but we figured it wouldn’t be hard to find you again.”

Sweat trickled down Blush’s face. “N-Now wait a minute, boys. It doesn’t have to be this way. I-I wanted to bring you into a real business—a big business! You’ll have money beyond your wildest dreams! It’s better than robbing banks or stagecoaches. With me, you’ll be rich men. That’s what Shade and I wanted to do. Holloway was wasting your potential. The Black Eagles could be more. You could become the most feared gang in the country and have anything you want!”

Fletcher spat off to the side and scowled. “Then we wouldn’t be the Black Eagles anymore. That’s not what Holloway created us to be. We followed him because he was different. He’s better than that, and he’s better than you, but here you are standin’ here alive and free while he’s about to die for all he stood for.”

Blush looked about wildly. “You don’t understand! Just listen to me. Let’s talk about this. I can guarantee—Fino, don’t you want your revenge? Are you going to let them steal it from you?”

Fino drew back in surprise. Was he asking her for help?

One little revolver wasn’t going to do anything against the gang’s arsenal. He knew her gun couldn’t kill him, but the Black Eagles could—and would.

She regarded the gun in her hand. The Zodiac, along with the help of her friends, had gotten her this far. Here Blush stood before her, cornered and ready for the killing. She had dreamed of it for years. _Years. How long have I been doing this? How much of my thoughts, time, and energy have I used dreaming of revenge for my parents, my people? How many times have I left them to seek my own wants and desires? How long have I been here?_ Blush had controlled her for so many years. The man’s continued existence drove her to become what she is today: hateful, bitter, and most of all, vengeful. But when she looked into his eyes, it was like staring back at herself. It made her blood turn to ice.

Fino slid the Zodiac into its holster. “No.”

Blush gaped. “No?”

“That’s what I said. I’m done with you. You’ve sucked the life out of me, and it’s about time I banished you to the past.” She turned out of the tightening circle of men. “I will have my revenge, but I won’t be the one to do it. Because the fact is, Blush, I don’t have to.”

The last thing she heard from him was a high shriek before the crack of guns drowned him out. The sound echoed over the plain and shook Fino’s core. She sat with her back to the scene and listened as the noise rolled away into the distance, carrying with it the emotions that had consumed her since she was a child. It grew faint, and she strained to hear it.

Silence settled on her soul like warm sunshine.


	47. Chapter 47

“Where _is_ he? He said he wanted to talk to me!”

Alternate paced his cell. The last few days dragged worse than the days before his botched execution. He would spend every waking minute by the bars, waiting for Judge Alverado to appear like he said he would. Though spared the noose for the time being, Alternate still had trouble sleeping, and when he did manage to sleep he would awaken with a start from the sensation of a noose being draped around his neck.

Little news came to him in jail. Aside from the sheriff and his deputies, Quincy and Dawson visited once, saying Fino had returned to town and Judge Alverado was reviewing their case. At the mention of Fino, Alternate’s heart leapt. He asked to see her, but she would not come, and Quincy wouldn’t explain why, saying she would explain herself to him. Alternate had wanted to reach out between the bars and punch the bounty hunter between the eyes. Quincy knew what held Fino back. Why did she confide in _him_? Alternate felt a stab of jealousy for the first time. Fino had left him alone to face the gallows. When she finally returned, she refused to see him, but didn’t have a problem talking to Quincy.

At least he wasn’t alone. The sheriff was gracious enough to allow Holloway to be placed in the cell across from Alternate, giving him some company; however, Holloway wasn’t particularly talkative. He was moody and short-tempered. He offered little comfort for Alternate and didn’t seem interested in telling him anything more about Reselda. His reluctance to talk angered Alternate, and soon their discussions ceased. Even with a neighbor across from him—someone who supposedly cared for him—he was still alone. The feeling pierced a dark hole in his heart, but instead of sucking out all his emotions, it spewed forth a bitterness he hadn’t known since he was a child. The memory of Holloway preparing to ride away without him came back. _I bet he’s wishing now he’d left._

“I wish they’d just hang me right now,” Alternate mumbled. He gripped the bars of the cell until his knuckles turned white. “No, I wish someone had shot me instead.”

Holloway turned to look at him curiously. He sat on the floor on his cell toward the back corner, just outside the ring of light provided by a lantern hanging between the cells.

Alternate continued to vent. “I should never have done this. It was stupid to try. Blush got away, just like he does every time. Now he’s free and I’m here waiting to die—again.” He threw glare on Holloway. “And all for what?”

Holloway averted his gaze and didn’t answer.

Leaving the bars, Alternate went to sit down near the same smelly mattress he’d had to contend with since arriving in Murdoch with the bounty hunter. He thought if there was ever a miracle and he was set free, he would burn that mattress himself. Alternate leaned his head against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. He’d lost his monocle and never found it, and his partly blurred vision got on his nerves. Nothing looked right and he always blinked to try to clear the picture.

“Papa,” Alternate muttered, “look what’s happened to me. I’m not sure you’d laugh or be mad.” Probably both, and then the big man would proceed to fling Alternate across the room as punishment for his stupidity. _Though he might’ve tried to save me._ He could see it now, Gordy smashing through the prison walls with his pickaxes and hoisting Alternate over a muscular shoulder. The lawmen may try to stop him, but their bullets would bounce off Gordy’s golden armor. Alternate smiled at the thought.

A sound came from the opposite cell, something akin to a sigh or a soft moan. Holloway shifted. His feet scraped along the floor as he stretched his legs.

It was funny to Alternate how he seemed to be craving the old days when not too long ago he had wondered how his life would’ve been under different circumstances. _I belonged somewhere once. When Blush killed Papa, I lost all that. I thought I could find a place to belong again, but I was wrong._ He craved the safe familiarity of that place. As he thought about it, however, he wondered if it wasn’t a place he wanted to belong in, but people he wanted to belong _with_. But that was a more precarious situation, as so far people had been in and out of his life like the wind. He felt hopeless to try.

“Venus.” Holloway’s deep voice rumbled out from the darkness.

Alternate crossed his arms and didn’t intend to answer, but found himself saying, “What?”

“They called her Venus.”

“Who is Venus?”

“Your mother.”

Alternate scooted closer to the bars. These were the first words Holloway had spoken since the previous day.

“Was that her real name?”

“It was a code name. Your mother was an assassin.”

Alternate’s breath hitched. “Wh-What? Y-You told me she was a witch!”

“She used poison against her victims, after seducing them.”

A tingle of shock coursed through Alternate’s body. “She—But—You mean she killed people?”

Holloway heaved a long, deep sigh. “I didn’t want to tell you this—“

“Why? Tell me!”

“It was her profession. She worked with the military to dispose of their enemies. She was part of their special forces.”

Alternate’s mind reeled. “Then how did she meet you?”

“On accident. We met in a town where she was sent on assignment.”

“Who’d she kill?”

Holloway’s laughter echoed. “She didn’t. She was with me the whole time!”

Alternate tried to laugh along with him, but all he could muster were weak chuckles. “Then how did she meet my dad?”

The laughter stopped, followed by a long pause. Holloway stood and stepped into the ring of light. “That was much later, but I don’t know how they met. She told me it was necessary she stay with him and carry on her ruses. I thought perhaps it had something to do with an assignment.”

 _But you were jealous._ It was obvious. The way Gordy regarded Reselda, even in her absence, was telling. He’d had affection for her, as bizarre as it seemed for someone as selfish and violent as him. Maybe he had liked her as more of a possession, like gold?

“I didn’t want to tell you any of this,” said Holloway. He shook his head. “But you have a right to know who your mother was. I should have told you sooner. We are not long for this world as it is—delayed, yes, but not long.”

Alternate was baffled. Earlier, Holloway described his mother as a kind, beautiful woman filled with love. How could she also be an assassin—a hired killer? It was difficult to comprehend. She sounded like a complicated person.

“Do you still want to find her, after knowing this?” Holloway asked.

“I do,” Alternate replied, still coming to grips with this information. “I… I don’t think she’s a bad person if you loved someone like her.”

Holloway appeared relieved by his answer. Telling Alternate the truth about Reselda had frightened him and was probably the reason he had kept quiet. Alternate had been asking a lot of questions and was bound to hit the right ones.

_We’ve got to get to Mexico. I have to find my mother. I’ll ask Fino if she wants to go with us. She might say no, but I can’t go without asking._

Alternate wanted to suggest his idea when the door down the block opened. He backed away from the bars and into the corner of his cell. He worried about one of the deputies who had shown some displeasure about the failed execution. The man had earlier threatened to smash Alternate’s face into the wall. Holloway stayed by the bars as the footsteps of several people approached.

Judge Alverado stood in front of Alternate’s cell, his hands behind his back, flanked by Quincy and Dawson and the sheriff of Murdoch. Alternate blinked in the dim light when he saw a smaller figure shyly emerge from behind Quincy. Fino looked back at him with her large, dark eyes filled with shame.

Fino!” he said with a wide smile. He stepped to the bars and wanted to reach out to her, but she was hesitant. It dulled his moment of joy. “I’ve been wondering where you’ve been. Where did you go?”

“That is not the issue I came to speak with you about, young sir,” Alverado said with a lift of his chin. He stood on his own without help, his hands clasped behind him and showing all signs of good health. Perhaps his injury hadn’t been serious, or maybe Alverado was a tougher man than he looked. It was difficult to tell in the lighting.

“I came here to discuss the ramifications of your actions a few days ago,” said the judge. “I have come to the conclusion that you and your accomplices had nothing to do with the gang’s attack. Are you sure you don’t know the whereabouts of your female companion?”

“I don’t,” Alternate said. “I _want_ to know where she went as much as you do.”

Alverado narrowed his eyes for a second and then relaxed. “Had you not be there at the right time, I would’ve been killed in that attack. You saved my life.”

“Oh, uh… Well, I just…did it, I guess.”

“You saved the life of the man who was going to have you hang.”

“I just did it without thinking.”

“I hear you do a lot of things without thinking.”

Alternate glanced at Fino, but she looked up at Quincy. A faint smile curved the bounty hunter’s lips.

Alternate frowned at him. _I do not. You made that up, you bastard._

“Therefore, due to your act of…rescue, I would like to commute your sentence,” Alverado announced.

“Commute?”

“It means I’m reducing your sentence. You will not hang—neither of you.”

“You mean this includes Holloway?” A feeling of lightness lifted his soul, something he hadn’t felt in several weeks. Their lives were being spared! He couldn’t believe it. A grin spread over his face.

“Yes,” the judge assured him. Alternate’s smile prompted his own. “Though I have less of a reason to commute Holloway’s sentence, your friends have convinced me. I heard the story. He chose not to leave with his compatriots, because he didn’t wish to be separated from you. And I do owe someone a favor.” He paused and cleared his throat, looking a little embarrassed. “Of course, this doesn’t mean you’re going without punishment. I do have to sentence you…but it _is_ unusual…”

Uneasiness slid cold fingers around Alternate’s heart. “What do you mean?”

“You are to leave this country, and never come back, under penalty of death.”

“Leave this country?” He repeated the words to be sure he’d heard correctly. “You’re exiling us? Can you really do that?”

Dawson removed an unlit cigarette from his mouth. “We decided to implement a little frontier justice and play around with some rules—“

“You mean make your own.”

“Sort of. But it’s not like anyone’s complaining. Are you?”

“Well, I…” Alternate again looked at Fino. There was no joy or relief in her at all. She hadn’t wanted him to hang, but then she didn’t want this, either. But he would live. It might as well be a pardon.

“I guess not,” he said.

“Good,” said the judge, visibly happier now that he had delivered his declaration. “Tomorrow morning, you will be given provisions for your journey south and be on your way.”

“You can thank Quincy for that,” said Dawson. “Eli here was just going to drop you off at the border with a couple of horses and some water.”

“And you can thank Fino for giving me the idea,” Quincy added, “though I preferred the judge’s proposal.”

Judge Alverado turned to Holloway. “And you. If you ever so much as set a toe over the border, I will know about it, and I will have you hunted down and you will not have a young girl like this one to graciously plead your case. _You owe her your life_.”

“I owe her double,” Holloway replied.

“We all do, to a certain degree,” said Quincy.

Fino flushed pink at his remark.

“Until then, rest up,” said Alverado. “In the morning you’ll have a chance to bathe and eat, but you will depart at sunrise. I would rather not attract a crowd. None of this has been announced to the public yet.”

 _And I can’t imagine people will be very happy about it, especially Holloway’s half-brother._ That man would be screaming for blood. Alternate wondered if they needed to worry about retribution from McCall. A political border wouldn’t stop him, would it?

As the visitors turned to leave, Fino stayed behind. Quincy stopped when he noticed she didn’t come.

“Fino?” he asked. “Are you coming?”

“I need to talk to him,” Fino said.

He didn’t ask why, but nodded and followed the others out.

She took a long time to speak, standing with her eyes cast at her feet. The longer she stood there, the more her shoulders slumped. It pained Alternate to see her that way, so he reached out and touched her shoulders. She flinched.

“I—I just wanted—to say I’m sorry I left,” she said without looking at him. “I was so scared—I thought you going to die and I just couldn’t bear it.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and then looked at him. “Can you forgive me?”

All of Alternate’s anger melted away. Fino had been bold and audacious throughout this entire ordeal. To go through what she did, she’d suffered more and had had more courage than him. She’d borne all the fears and uncertainty until the weight was too much to handle. Of course she got scared and ran away. He would’ve, too.

“I wanted to stop the execution,” said Fino. “I was about to when someone stopped me. There wasn’t anything more I could do.”

“I understand. I forgive you, but I want to know if you’ll forgive me for the hell I put you through?”

Fino acted like it was the silliest question she’d ever heard. She smiled. “How can I not?”

“Well, not too long ago you acted like you could’ve hung me yourself.”

“It’s pointless for me to stay angry with you. I just want you to live. That’s all I care about.”

“Even if it means we’ll probably never see each other again?”

“Who said we’d never see each other again?”

“We’re not allowed to return to America, remember? I can’t go see you—“

“Then I’ll come see you.”

“No, come with me.”

“What?” Fino placed a hand over her heart. She stared at him wide-eyed and speechless.

“I want you to come,” said Alternate, “but…I know that would mean leaving your family, and you wouldn’t want that. I had to ask, though.”

It didn’t take her long to decide. “I can’t. Yaghi’s at home waiting for me, and so are my relatives. Alternate, the world is changing, and my people are nervous. The future is dark for us. I need to be there to protect my people when the time comes. I wanted you to come home with me so I could protect you, too.”

“And Blush is still out there,” Alternate said in a low voice. “How are we supposed to get him now?”

Fino bowed her head, but he could see her slight smile. “I forgot to tell you. That’s funny.”

“What’s funny? What happened?”

“Blush is dead.”

He wished there was a bench in his cell so he could sit, but he could only stand on trembling legs. “Wh…What? How?”

“The Black Eagles killed him outside of town. They found out he and Shade were working together to betray Holloway.” Fino reached into her sash to pull something out. “The judge is loaning this to me for now, but I wanted to be the one to show you.”

She handed him a small, oval picture frame. The photograph within was so gruesome Alternate almost dropped it. The picture showed Blush lying in an upright coffin, his body riddled with holes and his face weirdly slack, eyes half open and vacant. The large, dark stains on his clothes told of his chilling demise and it made Alternate’s hands shake.

 _Death by firing squad._ That’s what it looked like to him. It was a morbid thing to behold, but his heart also warmed knowing the Black Eagles had had that much loyalty for Holloway. Would they continue on as a gang without his leadership?

 _Blush is dead. He’d really dead. You’ve been avenged, Dad, and by a gang whose leader you hated._ The irony made him want to laugh.

His stomach turned the longer he looked at the image, so he handed it back to Fino so she could show it to Holloway, who had been silent up to this point. He had no reaction to the picture and retreated to the back of his cell to sit.

“I could stay all day and talk to you,” Fino said to Alternate, “but Quincy will start to worry. I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

Alternate reached out for her arm. “W-Wait.”

She waited, but the words stuck in his throat. Nervous sweat prickled at his temples. Several moments passed before he could free his thoughts into words.

“I was never so happy when I saw you coming here to see me,” he said at last. “You were my only hope in this. I don’t think I could ever repay you.”

Fino took his hand and held it quietly, then she stood on her toes and planted a kiss on his lips. Alternate was too stunned—and pleased—to pull back. It lasted only a few seconds, and when she drew away she ran back toward the door and disappeared before he had a chance to say anything.


	48. Chapter 48

The future was laid out before Alternate like an endless sea, glittering in the sunlight with hope and possibility. A few days prior he had believed his life was over, to be cut short on the gallows where his limp corpse would be cut down and thrown into a narrow hole to decompose. With Blush dead and gone from his life, it was as if a load of heavy bricks had been lifted from Alternate’s chest. He felt like he could drift away on the clouds, calm, satisfied, and buoyant.

There was one dark spot in his cloud-like happiness, however. When the men escorting him and Holloway stopped, he knew they had arrived, and too soon. He wasn’t ready. He was about to leave behind everything he ever knew, even the best friend he ever had.

She traveled beside him today, never falling behind or getting too far ahead. It was like old times. He missed the days when they would walk and talk together and plan their dreams, in particular the ones involving their revenge against Blush. Neither of them spoke of separating after the deed was done, though. Alternate had always planned to stay in the picture, in her life. It just seemed natural. He couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.

That was in the past. He didn’t want to hide anything from her anymore, and he didn’t want to be apart from her, either. But it wasn’t his choice now. He was banished and she had to go home to her family. Her loyalty was to her family, and he to his, and unless there came a day when they could become a family, there would always be that ephemeral bridge between them.

The trek to the border had been a long one. Alternate and Holloway had to rush to eat and bathe before they were ushered out of the jailhouse with an armed escort. The sun hadn’t yet risen, and the only townsperson awake was the blacksmith, pounding away at some project. He worked in his shack and hadn’t seen the proceedings outside the jail.

Alternate had started to panic then. Fino wasn’t there, but he steadied his heart and trusted she would arrive. She wouldn’t miss the chance to say goodbye. When their entourage reached the outer limits of town, she waited there alongside Dawson, Quincy, and two others Alternate didn’t recognize, a young boy and a fat man. He guessed they were friends of Quincy judging by the way the fat man addressed the bounty hunter as “boss.”

The trip had gone quietly. Alternate wanted to talk to Fino, but couldn’t find what he wanted to say that would do justice to how he felt. Today might be the last day he ever saw her, and it was downright sad it had to be under these circumstances. She also seemed to have the same trouble. She’d look at him and then away again, keeping her chin up, but then she’d already said all she needed to say.

At the stopping point, the sheriff of Murdoch turned to the prisoners. “This is the end of the line,” he said. “Beyond that stream yonder is the border. You have food, water, and horses. Once you’re over there, we don’t care what you do. Just don’t come back.” He made a face as he recalled what the judge had ordered him to do. What a cotton-pickin’, harebrained idea! Was Eli Alverado a real judge or not?

Holloway and Alternate forded the stream with Fino and Quincy close behind.

When they reached the other side, Quincy said, “I’ll always remember you, Alternate.” His tone dripped with sarcasm. “Every time I see that scar on my chest, I’ll remember the kid who almost shot me in the heart. You’ll be the only one who almost took out the Preacher’s Kid.”

Alternate shrugged. “It’s not that hard at close range.”

Quincy’s eye twitched with annoyance. “So, where you do plan on going from here?”

“Further south, I guess. We’re going to try to find my mother.”

“Your mother?” Fino looked at Holloway with interest. “You think she’s out there?”

“It’s possible,” he replied.

“We’ve got to try,” said Alternate. “I don’t want to say I didn’t. I’m just glad I don’t have to do it alone.”

“No, you won’t,” Fino agreed. “Three of you should do it.”

“Three?”

Fino pointed beyond them. Noon approached, and standing off in the distance under the shade of a tree was a horse and rider. The young woman’s blond hair caught the filigree of light and shadow. Tony lifted a hand to wave at them.

“She never meant to leave you,” Fino told Alternate. “She thought you would be right behind her.”

Tears stung his eyes. “Tony...” So she hadn’t abandoned him after all. His heart grew fuller by the hour.

“I told her to take care of you,” said Fino, “since I can’t.”

Alternate sputtered. “It’s not—It’s not—“ _It’s not like that._ But it looked like it. He realized right then that he had made his choice. He had chosen Fino. _But we can’t be together, not like this._ He straightened and said, “I promise you, we’ll see each other again. Just wait for me.”

The look on her face betrayed her skepticism. She didn’t believe him, because he’d made that promise once before and didn’t come through.

“I _will_ do it,” he said, “b-because I—I—“

Holloway leaned over beside him with a knowing grin. Alternate blushed all the way down to his collar. Even Quincy held back a snicker. _Say it._

“B-Because I—I love you,” he said. “A-And I will tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that…”

Fino giggled. It was sound he had not heard in a long, long time. She rarely giggled. It was a gift from the heavens, just like her smile.

“I know you do,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I will wait for you.” She reached into one of her saddle bags and brought out a wad of money wrapped with a band. “I want you to take this.”

When she tossed it to Alternate, he stared at it with wonder. “How much—I mean, where did you get this?”

Quincy frowned at Fino. “You can’t give that to him. That’s his bounty!”

“You gave it to me, and I can do what I want with it,” Fino shot back. “I’m giving it to them because no one gave them money. I’m sure that was _your_ idea, wasn’t it?”

The bounty hunter went silent and smoldered.

Alternate flipped through the bills and his mouth dropped open. “I was worth this much?”

“Only because you robbed two banks,” Quincy grumbled. To Holloway he said, “I already put yours in my bank account.”

“I am proud to be your living wage,” Holloway quipped with a bow.

The bounty hunter scowled.

The young man and his long lost father turned to the south and pounded away on their steeds. Tony was quick to join them.

 

* * *

 

Fino waited until she couldn’t see them anymore, and wiped away the tears before they could spill over her cheeks. She sniffled and felt a hand on her shoulder.

“That was a lot of money, you know,” Quincy said.

“I don’t need it. They do.”

As they headed back to ford the stream again, Quincy said, “What was that about his mother?” He’d already been told the story of Holloway being Alternate’s father, but the mother was never mentioned.

“I’m not sure,” she replied. “He said he’d been looking for her, so maybe they know where she might be. Speaking of mothers, how is yours?”

Quincy grunted. “She’s still in shock. She’s never killed another person—would never dream of it.”

“You never told me what happened that day she killed Shade.”

They crossed the stream and the bounty hunter halted. He leaned forward with his arms resting over the pommel, watching as Dawson, Murdoch’s sheriff, and the deputies started the trip back to town. Only Lobo and Sticky remained, and the two of them went trotting over to their friends.

“My mother wanted a peek at the execution and managed to get away from my father for all of five minutes,” said Quincy. “It’s not like her, but she had to see the face of the man who hurt her. When I heard the gunshots outside, I ran out to help. I didn’t see Shade, but I was within shooting range. He’d found a loaded gun lying on the ground. According to my mother, he tried to shoot me, but she had a gun, too—one she likes to pack on her.” He shook his head at the thought.

Fino was stunned. She thought Delora was a pacifist. Had she always carried a gun with her? _That poor, traumatized woman…_

“She protected you,” Fino said. “She almost lost you once already.”

Quincy nodded. “Several times, actually. They’ll be going back to the station tomorrow. They’ll need help running it, too. My mother will be out of commission for a while.”

“Oooooh,” said Lobo. He and the others had just ridden up, and he rubbed his hands gleefully. “God said, ‘Let there be light,’ but I say, ‘There will be food!’”

“All you can eat,” Quincy said with a wink at Fino.

She smiled. “As long as there isn’t any meat.”

“Boss will be a rich man when people find his good food,” Lobo said, laughing. “Then he maybe can make Oralee fall in love with him, and they can get married!”

Sticky grinned at this prediction.

Quincy went stiff, his cheeks flushed. “What gave you that idea?”

“Oh, I forgot,” Lobo added, “you are already rich. I guess that won’t work on Oralee. You’ll have to try harder.”

The crimson hue spread further over Quincy’s face as he bristled. “Y-You…!”

The big man whispered to Fino, looking very serious, “He’s madly in love with her.”

“That much is obvious,” she replied. There was something satisfying in seeing Quincy miffed. He would have a hard time winning Oralee’s heart back. She seemed to have already made up her mind.

Quincy took a breath. “ _Anyway_ , we have to get going. My family’s going to start worrying.”

“And so will mine,” Fino agreed. “I’m sorry to say it, but I’m going to have to say goodbye from here.”

Quincy looked disappointed. “You should come back to the station with us and stay—“

“I thank you for the offer, but I have a little brother that’s worried sick about me, I’m sure.” _He’ll be sad Alternate didn’t return with me._ She didn’t look forward to seeing him upset over it. How would she explain all this to him? Would he understand?

Quincy sighed. “Well, I suppose you’re right. Though things didn’t turn out the way we intended, at least your friend is alive.”

“We didn’t fail,” Fino decided. _And he said he loves me._ It would have to satisfy her for now. In her heart she knew there would come a day when they would see each other again. Maybe by that time, he would find out what happened to his mother. _He’s not alone, either. I’m thankful for Holloway and Tony. Whatever happens, they’ll be there to protect him._

Fino drew up beside Quincy. She took hold of his sleeve and gave him a pointed look. At first he appeared uncertain, maybe a little embarrassed, but then he conceded. He allowed her to draw him down and plant a little peck on his cheek. He chuckled softly.

“See you around,” she said, and spurred her horse forward, traveling northeast toward home. “And tell Oralee congratulations for me when you marry her!”

The last thing she heard from him was a strangled curse of indignation. Lobo cackled.

She would miss them dearly.


	49. Chapter 49

She wanted to cry at first sight of the village.

Her soul grew bright and warm, and the tears that brimmed in her eyes fell and streaked down her face to drip in her lap. The wood smoke from the tipis carried on the wind, and people milled about, talking, working, and relaxing. Dogs barked and played with the children, fighting over discarded scraps of food left over from the latest hunt, blood staining their muzzles. A group of women had just arrived from the berry fields located on the hillslopes north of the village, their baskets overflowing with bright red fruit. They smiled and laughed in conversation.

Fino’s grandfather, in his magnificent headdress, stalked across the center of the village, deep lines cutting over his visage as he scowled. It was not like him to do that, and Fino could guess what the trouble was.

How was she going to explain herself to everyone? All the way home she tried to form a speech, but all she could hear were their rebuttals. They would be upset. She could imagine what had happened while she was gone. They would’ve sent out a search party, scouring the countryside and questioning everyone, wondering if she had been kidnapped by another tribe or a white man who would sell her. Yaghi probably thought all was lost. It almost killed Fino to think about him huddled in their tipi, curled on his side as he wept, just like she did when her parents died.

She hesitated at the top of the ridge where she looked down upon her people. No matter what they said or how they felt, she knew they would forgive her. If they had gone in search for her, they had done exactly what she had done for Alternate. It’s natural for people to worry about those they love and do everything in their power to help. Her people understood that. Thus, she had faith that, despite how they might initially react, they would forgive her.

A voice called out to her from below. A small figure darted out from among the tipis and stopped at the edge of the village. Yaghi gazed back at her with large eyes. The two of them stared at each other for several long seconds as if to gauge the moment to be real. Yaghi had grown a little bit, but he looked huge to Fino. He wore a new breechclout and moccasins, having outgrown his old ones.

Yaghi ran up the hill, eyes filled with dewy tears. “Y-You’re home,” he said, his voice trembling. “I—I thought—I almost b-believed you were dead!”

Fino swallowed the lump in her throat and dismounted. Her brother knocked her over as he plowed into her with a fierce hug. He cried against her ear, wet tears damp against her cheek.

The hard lump returned, and words were difficult to form. “I’m sorry I worried you,” she said. “I didn’t mean to be gone for so long.”

Yaghi looked around with hope. “Where’s Alternate? I thought you went to find him?”

“He’s not here, but it’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. Right now I’m really tired.”

Her brother’s face fell at first, but then he beamed. “Everyone’s going to so happy you’re back! We went looking everywhere for you. Grandfather thinks you might’ve died.”

“I’m fine,” Fino assured him. She stroked his disheveled hair down to the braid. _I’ll have to keep details to a minimum. I don’t want to scare anyone with what I went through._ Normally warriors boasted of their dangerous exploits, but Fino wasn’t looking for any fame in this case. She just wanted to be home and safe again.

Yaghi took her by the hand and dragged her down to the village, Fino’s horse trailing along behind by the reins. When the people saw her, they dropped what they were doing and rushed to greet her, faces radiating with joy. An elated cry rose in the air, and Fino’s grandfather emerged to see what the commotion was. Singing Bird followed him and pushed through the crowd to embrace her niece. The old chief stood in amazement. Someone began tapping a drum and singing a song of homecoming.

The people ushered Fino into her tipi, the familiar smells of home and family enveloping her and permeating her heart and soul. No one asked questions yet, but they would soon come. At the time, however, they brought her choice food and new clothes, declaring how thankful they were she had come home safe. It wasn’t the reaction she had expected. Fino felt she was back where she belonged, among the people who loved her most.

Evening came and the celebration continued with music, dance, and food. Fino ate more than she had in weeks and had to begin refusing food, she couldn’t eat another bite. People pressed her for the tale of her journey, and how she got that mysterious wound on her shoulder, but she told them she would tell them the story after a period of reflection. Her heart was as full as her stomach, and the whirl of activity made her nerves hum. Exhaustion set in. As night settled over the village, the party calmed and people retired to their tipis, much to Fino’s relief.

That night as she and Yaghi were snuggled in their hides and blankets, Fino noticed the unfinished pair of boots she had been working on before she left. _I forgot about the big gathering coming up. That’s next month, isn’t it?_ Would she have the mental and emotional energy to finish the beadwork? Only time would tell. She needed time to think about all that had happened, to absorb the events and feelings that had left her reeling with confusion. It was almost surreal to be home, like it was a dream. She allowed the tears to flow at last. _I’ll finish those boots. Next month, I’ll dance. I’ll dance…_

The tipi went silent save for the snoring of her relatives. Her eyes felt heavy, but Fino was wide awake. Smoke from the dying fire curled up the lodge poles and escaped through the smoke hole above where a single star was visible. The room was dim. Yaghi breathed softly beside her. Fino couldn’t feel at peace. Strong emotions slithered around in her chest. She thought about Quincy and what he was doing at that moment, how his mother was feeling, and if he was ever going to return to Silver Ridge for Oralee. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him getting married to Oralee. Fino bet they’d have a whole brood of children if he did.

Her thoughts inevitably drifted to Alternate. She held back the tears that threatened to break free and fought the disappointment of his absence. Right now he was doing what his heart told him to do, and she wasn’t going to tell him to do anything else. He had two people with him who cared about him. He would be okay. He was probably asleep somewhere, out in the wilderness or in a comfortable hotel, his journey leading him to where he belonged, and ultimately to his family.

Fino hoped her own journey would someday lead her back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story requires a sequel if I want to bring Alternate and Fino back together, but at the time of this writing, it's tentative. Thanks for all comments and kudos! I value comments above all else, but I am appreciative of any support. Again, critique is welcome.


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